


it only happens when i dance with you

by leighbot



Series: there's seldom a second time [1]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M, Sexual Content, Weddings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-24
Updated: 2015-03-24
Packaged: 2018-03-16 12:56:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 25,983
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3489062
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leighbot/pseuds/leighbot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>He’s here, he made it; he can congratulate the bride and groom after the ceremony and slip away before the reception begins. He doesn’t have to talk to or see anyone he doesn’t want to, he’s pulled it off.</i>
</p>
<p><i>Then he looks up from the floor and sees a familiar head of curly brown hair four rows before him and Zayn thinks maybe he hasn’t really pulled anything off at all.</i><br/>Or, the one where Zayn and Harry were together until they suddenly weren’t, and this one day might be their chance to fix things after half a decade of radio silence.</p>
            </blockquote>





	it only happens when i dance with you

**Author's Note:**

  * For [thisonegoes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thisonegoes/gifts).



> Based on a prompt requesting canon divergence set five years after the band breaks up where Zayn and Harry have to find their way back to each other after years apart. thisonegoes, I hope this hits the spot for you! I was immediately infatuated with your first prompt and dove in headfirst, resurfacing after almost 26k words with no idea how I’d done it all.
> 
> Infinite thanks to [Zoe](http://millionairelouis.tumblr.com/) and [Sam](http://harrystylesadidasaddict.tumblr.com/), my gorgeous, fantastic and ever-patient betas/britpickers. They made sure this sounds like it could potentially, actually be set in the UK and their hand-holding has saved me when sometimes I just wanted to delete it all and cry in a corner. Any remaining mistakes are mine.
> 
> This is so cheesy- completely fondue bucket worthy- with just enough angst to get you ready for the next horribly cheesy cliche. It is terribly self-indulgent with just a dash of slow burn, and somehow is the longest thing I’ve written in this fandom.
> 
> Title yanked from Judy Garland and ‘Easter Parade’ because I am nothing if not terribly unoriginal.

There’s a slight breeze ruffling his hair when Zayn steps from his car, a hand automatically reaching back to brush possible stray pet hair from his dress slacks. His shoes crunch on the gravel as he shifts, turning to look behind him at the packed car park, the rows of luxury cars aligned with the help of parking attendants. His car is in the last spot in his section, and he lifts a hand in thanks as the kid who directed him in jogs back to the entrance.

He turns back again, facing the imposing church rising above him- noting the original white peeking through the layers of dirt and vines, the weathered stone appearing grey. From where he’s stood, he can hear instruments being tuned and low rumbles of chatter, and he puts off heading inside for another moment longer. He’d thought the drive down to East Grinstead would have been long enough to prepare himself, but traffic had been light and he’d almost been caught off-guard when he’d arrived so quickly.

He watches several stragglers, like himself, rush inside, can hear the volume level increase slightly when people start calling out their hellos to the newcomers. Zayn pushes off from his car, straightening his jacket and fiddling nervously with his tie for a moment, before gritting his teeth and heading in. He jogs up the weathered stone steps into the entrance, letting his eyes adjust from the sunlight until he can make out the white and silver decorations against dark mahogany and see the faces of those nearest him.

He doesn’t recognise anyone, but can pickout American accents among them as he shuffles past the group with a smile. He’s almost through the doors leading into the nave when a pretty brunette appears in front of him, blocking his path. He’s about to excuse himself and let her pass when he takes a second glance at her face.

“Fizz?”

She grins wide, a classic Tomlinson smirk and he pulls her into a hug, careful not to disturb her hair, before pushing her back gently to take in her silver bridesmaid dress.

“Guess Lottie doesn’t mind being upstaged by her little sister,” he teases. “Didn’t take advantage of her power to put you in a hideous dress.”

Fizzy laughs and shoves at his shoulder a bit. “ _Prat_ ,” she clicks her tongue. “Besides, her highness prefers _Charlotte_ now, thank you,” she finishes with a roll of her eyes.

“Oh, of _course_. How could I forget?” he smiles wide. Louis’ sisters have grown to be like his own over the last twelve years, and no amount of time can change that. “So, how’s twenty-one treating you? Your turn for one of these soon?”

“Ugh, settle down? Not me. I’m gonna see the whole world,” she says with such determination that he doesn’t doubt it for a second. Jay’s raised a brood of strong-willed children; Zayn’s seen the limitless tenacity in each of them.

“I believe you, babe. Let me know if you need a second chair on any of your adventures.”

“Not holing yourself up anymore?”

He rolls his eyes and sneaks a quick pinch to her fingertips. “I haven’t _holed_ up at all, thank you, miss. Find a new adventure friend, now.”

She laughs, bright and clear, and turns when her name is called. She shouts back and looks to Zayn. “The soon-to-be Mrs. Charlotte Sinclair has requested my presence,” she recites with a drawl. “Sounds a bit fancy for a girl from Donny, my how she’s risen in the world.”

“Get on, go tend to the bride. Make yourself useful.”

She smiles bright at him again and shoves him a bit with both hands in the direction of the guest book. “Go put your autograph in there, I’m selling it online once you boys have all signed.”

He laughs, never tired of hearing them collectively referred to as ‘boys’ despite the oldest having just turned thirty. He kisses her cheek before she walks away.

He follows her instructions, tucking an errant curl behind his ear as he writes a short congratulatory note in the book, before making his way into the nave where most of the guests are already seated. He declines help from one of Steven’s ushers, finding a spot near the back and glancing around for familiar faces. He thinks he sees Niall for a second, but can’t be sure when he loses him in the packed room, the crowd made up of Lottie and Steven’s large families and even larger social circles.

He settles into his seat and looks down to his hands, relaxing a bit. He’s here, he made it, and he can kiss Lottie after the ceremony and slip away before the reception begins. He doesn’t have to talk to or see anyone he doesn’t want to, he’s pulled it off.

Then he looks up from his lap and sees a familiar head of curly brown hair four rows before him and Zayn thinks maybe he hasn’t really pulled anything off at all.

He scoots further into the pew to avoid being spotted, but all he gains from it is a dark look from the stranger next to him when he gets almost uncomfortably close. He apologises and shifts back slightly, grateful when the music begins and he can turn to watch as eight year old Doris and one of Steven’s nieces lead the group of bridesmaids in. She waves to Zayn when she sees him, and he waves back with a smile. His attention shifts to the Daisy and Phoebe, seventeen and no longer mirror images of each other, identical smirks set off by Daisy’s short dark bob and Phoebe’s long, artificially blonde curls. Steven’s youngest sister walks next, and Fizzy follows her, last in line. He shifts with the rest of the crowd as they watch them walk down the long aisle, surprised when he sees one face still turned to him.

Even from the short distance, Zayn can tell the green in Harry’s eyes hasn’t faded. He freezes, unsure what to do and fighting against every instinct telling him to flee. Harry smiles softly at him, lifting his hand just enough to waggle his fingers in a little wave. He mouths ‘hi’ but Zayn still doesn’t react, feeling a flush fill his cheeks. He tries to nod, isn’t sure if he actually manages, and startles at the sound of one hundred and fifty guests standing when Lottie and Mark appear in the doorway.

He stands belatedly and turns, trying to focus on Lottie’s smile as she walks past him with her father, but all he can see in his head are green eyes and the face of the man he used to love so much.

_~*~_

 

 

> What Harry first notices about Zayn are his big, hazel-brown eyes and genuine smile. He rushes past him behind the stage one day while he’s supposed to be taping a small bit for _The Xtra Factor_ and he turns to look again when he reaches a corner.
> 
> The boy is around his age with pierced ears and too-short dark hair, but his eyes are locked on Harry’s, and he smiles. There isn’t anything particularly _remarkable_ about his grin, it’s similar to the way they’re all been beaming lately- _I got two yes’s, I got three, Simon Cowell said I could be the next winner_ \- but something about the way his eyes are bright despite the distance and his teeth flash against the edge of his bottom lip makes Harry want to see it again.
> 
> He nods and shoots back his own cheeky grin, feeling his dimples on display, before he swings around the corner and takes off in a sprint. He’s uncharacteristically unapologetic when he arrives late and can’t keep a grin off his face for the rest of the day.

~*~

After the long Anglican ceremony- a harsh juxtaposition from the overly American procession- Zayn tries to sneak out before Harry can catch him. He had looked back towards Zayn throughout the service, smiling every time he caught him looking, and Zayn knows he has to get out before he or any of the others see him. He feels bad for a second about skipping out on Lottie’s day but he tells himself he’ll send his apologies later, he needs to _leave_.

He isn’t fast enough. He manages to slip out of his pew before Harry can, letting a crowd of well-wishers get between them as he races out the door, but then he nearly collides with Louis as he gets to the bottom of the steps.

“Whoa, mate, slow down. Plenty of time to get to the party,” he laughs, pulling Zayn into a hug. He feels himself relax slightly, the familiar embrace calming his nerves like it has for years. Zayn shuffles back a bit to look him over, but doesn’t break Louis’ hold on his shoulders.

His hair’s a bit longer than usual, swept back and constant scruff neatly trimmed for the big day. His eyes are still as sharp and blue as ever, the only sign of the last twelve years the thin wrinkles around his eyes and mouth.

“I didn’t see you earlier, but I knew you’d come,” Louis says, sincere.

Zayn feels bad when he thinks about how he’d almost skipped out entirely. “You look good,” he says instead, “Liam alright?”

Louis smiles. “Li’s good. Last I saw, Ernie was making him give piggy-back rides.”

“Is there a Tommo child Liam _hasn’t_ given a piggy-back to?” he teases, looking distractedly behind him and seeing Harry stood back, watching them as a stream of people file out around him. He turns back to Louis, frown forming on his face as he watches the exchange.

“We missed you at Christmas, you know?” is all he says.

Zayn sighs, feeling guilty again. Louis’ always had a knack for calling someone on their shit without even trying; it’s possibly his most annoying and charming trait. “I had already promised to take Michael to Aruba.”

“Funny how you never went on holiday with Michael until Hazza moved back home. I see you ran into him, by the way.”

“Yeah, bound to happen one day.” He stands awkwardly in front of Louis for a moment, the constant chatter of people rehashing the ceremony a welcome relief from talking. He takes a breath and decides to give leaving another shot. “Well, I’m going to take off,” he begins. “Give Lottie a hug for me, yeah? I didn’t get to catch her on her way out.”

Louis’ frown deepens. “What?”

“Yeah,” Zayn says quickly, making to move past him. “I sent a gift ahead and signed the book, but if you could let her know I had to run-”

“You’re not _leaving_.”

Zayn stops at Louis' hurt tone, hating himself just a little bit for causing it. He looks up at him again. "Lou, I don't think I can _stay_."

Louis bites his lip, looking towards where Harry must still be watching them. "He asks about you constantly," Louis says in a near-whisper, stepping even closer, the words meant for only them to hear.

"I don't care," Zayn lies.

"He specifically seems to be interested in who you're dating."

"I don't _care_."

"I told him about Michael."

"I don't-"

Louis cuts him off, his voice angry but not any louder as he hisses, "If you lie to me _once_ more, I might actually never speak to you again.”

Zayn bites his lip but doesn’t speak, the flash of irritation in Louis’ eyes serious. He looks down at his feet and kicks the gravel once.

Louis’ voice is kinder when he starts again. “Listen, I’ll tell Hazza to stay away, but you _have_ to come to the reception. Lottie will be _devastated_ if you go.”

Zayn sighs and tilts his head back, looking to the clear sky as if for answers. Finally, knowing he really has no other option, he concedes. He shifts so he’s fully facing Louis again. “I’ll stay. Of course I will, I’m sorry. But after I stay long enough to be respectful, I’m leaving and I’ll want to be alone for a few days. And then you’re going to come by and we’re going to get hammered like we’re back in sixth form, sound fair?”

Louis smiles and nods, holding his hand out. They shake on it and Zayn’s about to leave again, when Louis’ other hand reaches up and grips his elbow gently, keeping him near.

“You knew he’d be here. How come it’s hitting so hard?”

Zayn doesn’t look at him, but he takes a moment to weigh his words carefully. “When the invitation came six months ago, I didn’t even think about it. I booked two tickets to Aruba and RSVP’d ‘attending alone’ on the same day. Then I waited until last week to dump Michael. I’m pretty sure I’m a shit person and I’m also pretty sure I did all that _because_ I knew Harry’d be here. I don’t know what that means and I’d really rather not discuss it.”

Louis, for once in his life, doesn’t push Zayn any further. He squeezes his elbow again, his other hand clapping Zayn gently on the shoulder, before moving back and letting him walk away.

_~*~_

 

> Harry doesn’t make it. He hears what feels like every other name but his get called and he _didn’t make it_. He doesn’t know what he’s going to do, doesn’t know how he’s supposed to go on to college and university when he’s got a taste of the stage now.
> 
> He’s crying but trying not to, deep breaths to calm himself as he wipes his face and tries to focus on the camera. He doesn’t know what to say, doesn’t know how to explain that he had been _so sure_ he was getting through, he never really thought his name wouldn’t be called.
> 
> He’s getting ready to leave, looking around for a producer or at least someone with a walkie talkie who can tell him what he’s supposed to do next, when they’re all gathered together again. He hears his name called and thinks wryly that it’s too late, this isn’t the one that counts, when he realises four other names have been called, too, and one of them is the boy with the hazel eyes who didn’t want to dance during bootcamp.
> 
> He’s become a bit fixated on Zayn since almost crashing into him, keeping on the lookout for him when they eat and rehearse. Watching him return to the stage and dance had made Harry proud in a way he didn’t understand, and seeing the confusion on his face now brings out a protective streak he hadn’t realised he even _had_.
> 
> They file onto the stage, four girls on the opposite side from them, and Harry will maintain for the rest of his life that he had no idea what was about to happen. He’s too nervous to listen when Nicole begins to speak, watching Simon’s face for any clue as to why they’re here. He barely hears her tell them they’re too talented to let go of, but notices when Niall bounces a bit next to him, muttering “they’re going to make us a group” under his breath.
> 
> Harry can’t believe it, doesn’t really, until Nicole says it out loud and Simon announces they’re going through to the Judges’ Houses, and he can’t help it- he sinks to the floor in a squat, completely overwhelmed with relief, hands going out to steady himself before he can fall. He feels Niall hug him, ‘ _get in!_ ’ shouted near his ear, before he’s pulled up and into a group hug.
> 
> He meets Zayn’s eyes across the hug. The world has shifted under his feet in the last thirty seconds but those eyes are just as warm and bright as when he’d first seen them. He feels a sense of calm wash over him and he closes his eyes against happy tears, squeezing closer to the boys before pulling back to listen to Simon speak, warn them how hard they’re going to need to work to pull this off.
> 
> He’s never wanted something more in his life, he’ll work himself _dry_ for this chance.

~*~

Zayn parks and climbs out of his car outside of the reception venue, leaning against the door and lighting a cigarette to calm his sudden nerves. He’s immediately boxed in, new attendants leading vehicles behind and next to his, and he moves out of the way to the wide aisle in front of his car as he paces.The packed lot sits behind a massive manor house, the two storey sixteenth century home recently converted into a hotel and restaurant holding. One of Lottie’s uni friends’ aunt’s neighbour- or someone equally removed- knew someone who knew someone else, and had been able to secure the venue for the day, a papparazzi ban in place around the area to protect Lottie from any lingering interest surrounding the sister of a previous pop star.

He lights a second smoke as he takes in his surroundings, eyeing the  restored lodge in front of him, stone structure relatively small compared to the size of the manor home much further on the property, past the gardens. In the sprawling lawn before the house a large patio dancefloor has been constructed, the tables dotting the surrounding grass decorated similarly to the way the pews had been back at the church, silver tablecloths offset with white settings and black chairs.

He lights a third before stubbing out his second, pocketing his pack and looking up, noticing Liam heading his way.

“Mate!” Liam calls out when he’s still a bit off, smile lighting up his face.

Zayn can’t _not_ smile back, a rush of warmth flooding him when he’s pulled into a tight hug. He feels Liam’s lips on his temple and he relaxes completely in his arms, trusting Liam to sort him out, sort them all out.

“Louis said he spoke to you but wouldn’t tell me what you guys talked about. Anything I should know?” Liam asks when they pull apart.

“It’s Lottie’s day,” Zayn says instead of answering, knowing Liam will let him avoid the question for now. True to form, he just nods and wraps an arm around Zayn’s shoulder, leading him through the overly ornate gates and into the crowd.

“Loo’s back there,” he nods at the lodge as they walk past.

The newly-weds are yet to arrive, possibly staying behind at the church to take photographs, knowing their guests will appreciate the open bar and uncharacteristically warm weather in their absence. Zayn tries to look around surreptitiously for Harry but doesn’t spot him. He takes a flute of champagne when offered, clinking it against Liam’s glass as Niall approaches.

“Wahey, three-fifths of the world’s biggest boy band ain’t bad, cheers,” he smiles when he gets near enough, clinking his pint glass against theirs.

“And we’re in the presence of the world’s biggest solo-sensation, the one and only Payno. Don’t you forget it,” Zayn teases, watching Liam’s eyes roll and his smile grow even wider.

“Shush, you two,” he says, cheeks pink. “Niall, you’re in the business of replacing us: how’s that coming along?” Liam says, the three of them turned into each other in a semi-circle. Zayn can’t help but think how natural it still feels to leave room for two more.

Niall’s laughing and telling a story about some new recruits he’s found recently in a pub in Dublin but Zayn is only half-listening, still searching the venue for Harry. If the others notice, they don’t mention it and Zayn is grateful for that. He focuses back on the conversation when the talk shifts to Niall’s little girl.

“Chloe’s at home with her mum, they’ve both got a bit of a bug,” he shrugs. “She proper threw a strop about not being able to come and wear her pretty dress. Katie and I tol’ her she can wear it to Uncle Liam and Uncle Tommo’s wedding but she wasn’t much impressed with that offer.”

“Gee, thanks,” Liam says, feigning hurt. He breaks character before too long with a huge grin, always the worst at keeping a serious face, and Zayn thinks that things may not have changed as much in five years as he’d thought.

“When are you making an honest man out of Louis anyway? Coming up on ten years, mate.” Zayn feels the words heavy on his tongue as he tries to ignore the voice in his head reminding that he and Harry could have had the same been nearing the decade mark too if they hadn’t gone and messed it up.

“Ten years in a couple of weeks, yeah. We’ve not set a date yet, maybe this winter, but I’ve been meaning to ask: would you two by my ushers?”

He watches Niall beam and feels his face own face mirroring him, smile genuine.

“Of course we will,” he answers for both of them.

Liam nods and grins, then raises his hand and looks to Zayn, smile fading. “I know Lou’s planning to ask Harry, so I understand if you want to back out-”

Zayn makes a sound he isn’t altogether proud of, something between a hiss and a hush. It has the desired effect, though, as Liam falls silent.

“Wild fucking _horses_ couldn’t keep me from your wedding,” he says, voice a bit too intense.

He shouldn’t worry about putting either of them off, though, as Niall’s still smiling and even Liam has regained his grin, a bit of a confused hunch to his brows all the same. Niall nudges Liam with his elbow, raising his glass for another toast.

“To wild horses and to the Tomlinson-Paynes, doing life in the right order!”

Zayn laughs as they clink their glasses together and sip in sync, a buzz of energy rushing through him as his words settle. Nothing could have kept him from attending Lottie’s wedding as a guest and _nothing_ would keep him from standing up in the wedding of two of his best friends, two of his brothers. He feels soothed as he realizes that no amount of time could have changed Harry’s priorities, that they would always push aside their baggage for the Important Things.

This is just the first time in five years an Important Thing is actually happening. Liam’s first concerts as a solo artist had found Zayn sick in bed with the flu, unable to attend, and Harry had been in Los Angeles for Chloe’s birth, not having made it until she was a few days old. They’ve managed to avoid crossing paths until today and Zayn feels a sort of nervous excitement wondering how the day will pan out.

He focuses back on Liam and Niall, listening as Niall continues to tease Liam for making an honest man out of Louis. “You and Katie can still make it legal, you know?” Zayn says after taking another sip of his champagne, feeling the fizzy bubbles against his tongue.

“Nah,” Niall shakes his head, smile blinding, “she’s too good for me and lets me know it. If she ever forgets, I just remind her again.”

“To being unconventional,” Liam supplies, their glasses once more touching.

“Enough toasts,” Zayn grumbles, laughing with them both and wishing- not for the first time- that he could be as carefree as Niall or as self-confident as Liam.

_~*~_

 

> Having the four boys at the bungalow is much more difficult than Harry had anticipated. He’d assumed they’d all fall in together easily but Liam is kind of reserved and doesn’t open up to them much. He’ll let Zayn draw him close and the two of them spend a lot of time on their own, whispering back-and-forth about superheroes and comics, girlfriends and boyfriends, but he clearly doesn’t like Louis much and can’t seem to figure out how to act around Niall and Harry.
> 
> Harry doesn’t understand most of what they’re talking about when he tries to integrate himself into their hangouts. He feels silly, even though Liam and Zayn try to explain the storylines to him and they don’t judge him when he says he doesn’t like to read, would rather watch the movies. But he still feels like a bother when they’d rather be alone- can see how Liam’s trying to be nice to him for Zayn’s sake- so he mostly hangs back and lets Niall or Louis pull him into footie games and wrestling matches instead.
> 
> It’s _fine_ , he’s okay with Zayn giving his attention to someone else. He doesn’t really expect them to fall in love after a night spent around a bonfire, but he’d quite like it if his crush wasn’t spending _all_ his time with a boy like Liam, with whom he was _clearly_ extremely compatible.
> 
> Harry’s been trying to keep his feelings private but he’s the least subtle person _alive_ and it doesn’t take long for Louis to catch him making moon-eyes at Zayn enough times that he yanks him aside one day, concern etched on his face.
> 
> “This can’t become a _thing_ with Zayn, you know that, right?” he asks, voice serious for once.
> 
> Harry pouts and avoids meeting his eyes. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
> 
> Louis sighs and puts his arm around Harry’s waist, pulling them close together for a cuddle. Harry’s instantly defensive, knows this sigh and move from the countless times Gemma’s pulled the same ‘I’m older so I know better’ trick, and he pulls away.
> 
> “Harry,” Louis tries again, tone cautious. “I don’t care if you like boys or you only like Zayn in particular or anything in between. You know that, right?”
> 
> Harry nods but doesn’t let him push any closer.
> 
> “It’s just… this is the _band_ , this is our chance. You have to treat this like your _job_ now, and you can’t mess around with a colleague, it doesn’t end well.”
> 
> Harry knows Louis’ right, knows his crush on Zayn is stupid now that they’re working towards something so big, but he’s still irritated. He takes a deep breath and exhales.
> 
> “You’re right, I’ll drop this Zayn thing,” he says. Louis pulls at him again and he lets himself be hugged this time before pulling back. “You need to listen to your own advice, though, and start getting along with Liam.”
> 
> Louis rolls his eyes, hands going to his hips. “Liam’s _uptight_ , I can’t work with that. _He’s_ going to have to change.”
> 
> “You need to meet him halfway, Lou. Give him a reason to come around and I’ll keep my crush to myself. You don’t think anyone else has noticed, do you?”
> 
> “No,” Louis says, shaking his head. “I don’t think Niall has, and Liam and Zayn are in their own little world half the time. I reckon you’re safe.”
> 
> Harry nods and breathes deep again, releasing the air in his lungs with a sigh. He wills his crush to go away as quickly as possible, tries to tell himself he’ll meet so many people if they do well, and maybe he’ll find someone he likes more than Zayn.

~*~

The wedding party arrives in a flutter of activity, the classic Tomlinson smile now flashing throughout the crowd as the sisters make their way to the bar and Dory and Ernie converge on the DJ, requesting songs. She laughs and complies, and soon all of the children are dancing on the floor while the guests take turns congratulating the newly-weds.

Zayn’s seated at an empty table near the dance floor, still looking around for Harry before finally spotting him and Louis stood apart from the rest of the guests. They’re talking together and paying him no mind, and he takes a secret, selfish moment to catalogue all the differences he can see from the distance.

Harry’s still as tall and strong, the years having only broadened his chest further. He seems to be talking as slowly as ever, his hands gesturing in rolling motions as he speaks. Even at twenty-eight, his hair is thick and full, styled back from his face and just about the right length for the headscarves to make a reappearance.

Zayn remembers the headscarves fondly, remembers teasing Harry something dreadful when he’d first started using them and the way Harry’s smile had brought out his dimples when Zayn would tie them for him, sweeping his hair back.

He’s thought about Harry almost every day since he last saw him five years ago. Some of the memories are fond and some of them aren’t, but he’s always partially on his mind, directing his actions subconsciously: _what would Harry do?_

He stands, entertaining the idea of going to the bar for another drink or possibly finding the twins for a quick hello, when Harry looks over at him. His face is open and concerned, completely focused across the distance, and Zayn feels his cheeks heat. Harry nods at him and turns back to Louis, saying something brief before walking away towards the DJ. He watches as he greets Niall, their body language open and warm and he’s hit with a brief pang of jealousy.

He knows he’s been a bit reclusive over the last few years, letting himself fall out of contact with Niall, Liam and Louis for too long before he’ll call them and set up a get-together. The break-up of the band and the end of his relationship had been a lot to handle at once and Zayn had gone his own way for awhile. The others had let him, welcomed him back in as soon as he’d reached out, but he’d lost some of the ease he’d once had. The ease Harry still seems to have.

They’d all kept contact with Harry, though, had supported him when he’d released his music on his own label. Liam had even asked Harry to open for his arena tour on its North American leg. Harry’s Chloe’s godfather, Louis’ best friend and Liam’s opening act. He isn’t anything of Zayn’s anymore.

He shakes himself out of his own thoughts, watching as Louis makes his way towards him indirectly, stopped by party guests along the way. Zayn sits back in his chair, knowing Louis will chase him down and embarrass the both of them in this crowd in order to force him to talk. He’d really rather just get the conversation over with. Finally, Louis slides into the seat next to him and smiles, slightly pinched but still sincere.

“I guess you saw us talking then,” he starts and Zayn shrugs.

With perfect timing and perhaps a touch of predetermination, Liam appears at their table, a beer for each of them in his hands. He passes them off and Zayn takes a long swig, anything to keep from having to speak.

“I don’t know if you’ve ever been told this,” Louis says next, “but, back during X Factor, I knew Harry fancied you.”

Zayn nods. “He told me he had liked me back then. I knew.”

“Yeah, but that’s not what I meant. I knew and I told Harry to leave it alone. Told him that we shouldn’t start relationships within the band.”

Zayn shrugs at the confession. What Louis’ saying isn’t unreasonable. He would have probably given him and Liam the same advice before they’d started up. He doesn’t understand, then, why something twists in his gut at the words. “Maybe you should have told _me_ that, too.”

Liam picks at the label on his bottle, and clears his throat before speaking. “I think that you two had something really great. Even if it didn’t last, it was good while it did.”

Louis reaches a hand to place on Liam’s, stilling his nervous habit. “I think,” he begins thoughtfully, “We were all sad. The band was done and then you two were over and Harry had run off to LA. We gave you guys space and time to work things out but it never happened. I don’t think it’s too late to extend an olive branch, is all I’m saying.”

Zayn can feel himself frown, opening his mouth to protest. Before he can speak, though, Louis lifts his other hand so it’s palm up, pacifying him. “I’m not _saying_ either of you are to blame, I won’t pick sides. But _maybe_ , for my sister’s wedding, you two can just be cordial if you find yourself around each other?”

“Of course we can be cordial. I don’t _hate_ him,” Zayn says, offended.

“Maybe you should tell _him_ that, I know he thinks you do.”

Zayn doesn’t respond to Louis for a moment. He isn’t really sure what to say. To his surprise, Liam speaks up first. “I’ve heard some of the new stuff he’s putting out. It’s… _incredibly_ personal. I don’t think he’s over you.”

Zayn _can’t_ listen to anything more. He stands with his bottle in hand, trying to forget Liam’s words though he knows they’ll be on replay in his mind for the night and possibly the rest of his _life_. “I’m going to greet Lottie. I’ll _stay_ ,” he adds quickly when Louis looks about to protest, “but I’m going to congratulate your sister before I take utter advantage of the open bar you and yours have graciously provided, Tommo.”

Liam and Louis smile at him in unison and he rolls his eyes fondly. He _clinks_ his bottle against theirs casually when they lift their hands, taking a sip and turning away to queue up for the bride and groom.

_~*~_

 

> Harry _loves_ Los Angeles. They spend only a short time in January setting the frame for their debut album, but Harry is exploring the city every second he can. He usually ropes Louis or Niall into coming out with him, but his favorite person to explore LA with is Zayn.
> 
> His crush had cooled to a simmer while they were apart over the holidays, always at the edge of his awareness but manageable. Being with him in America, though, taking him through the city and sneaking down to the beach together has his feelings threatening to boil over again.
> 
> Zayn’s just so _confident_ that they’re going to do great things- so assured that they’re the next big thing- that Harry can’t believe they ever doubted his commitment to the band.
> 
> The last day before they’re scheduled to leave for the X Factor tour, Zayn asks Harry to come with him for a surprise. Harry smiles and nods, following as Zayn leads him from their hotel and onto a bus, getting them off and transferring onto the rail system.
> 
> He gets more confused when they get off in Koreatown, but he follows anyway as Zayn navigates through a back alley before coming out onto a large expressway.
> 
> “What are we doing?” Harry laughs as they rush down the street, high-rise buildings towering over them.
> 
> “Just, pretend we’re dating,” Zayn says, smiling at him over his shoulder and reaching out a hand for Harry to take.
> 
> Harry flushes but doesn’t say anything else, letting Zayn link their fingers together and tug him forward until they’re stood in front of one of the many, _many_ tall buildings. A doorman greets them and escorts them inside, having a brief conversation with Zayn that Harry can’t hear. He smiles when he steps back, though, winking at Harry.
> 
> “Your boyfriend has something special to show you,” he says, and Harry doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to the American accent. He guides them to a wall of lifts, stepping in with them and hitting the button for the top floor with another smile.
> 
> The doors open and they step directly into a posh flat, floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking downtown LA. Harry’s jaw drops as he takes in the view, startling when he catches sight of a woman standing off to the side.
> 
> “Who-?” he asks when he sees her, turning to Zayn.
> 
> Zayn’s grin is cheeky when he looks at him and lifts their linked hands to his mouth, pressing his lips against his knuckles. Harry tries to take it in stride, smiles though he can feel how flushed his cheeks are.
> 
> “This is Uncle Si’s real estate agent, love. I asked her to show us this place.”
> 
> Harry nods, blood humming from the kiss and being called ‘love’. If his face hadn’t been aflame before, he’s sure it is now.
> 
> “I’m Lauren,” she says, coming forward with her hand outstretched. Harry takes it and tries to act normal, but he’s sure the dopey smile he can feel on his face is blowing their cover.
> 
> “Would it be possible to have a moment to look around?” Zayn asks her, turning a charming smile on her and watching her answering grin grow in return.
> 
> She nods and grabs her paperwork and her bag. “I’ll be in the lobby. Please let me know if there’s anything further I can do for you.”
> 
> They thank her and wait until the elevator doors close before turning to each other.
> 
> “ _Uncle Si_?” Harry asks, smiling.
> 
> Zayn laughs, bright and clear. “Worked, didn’t it? Now come on, let’s go look.”
> 
> He takes Harry’s hand and leads him down the hallway towards the bedroom first, the two of them making their way through the entire flat.
> 
> *
> 
> They tell Lauren they have several other places to choose from and then thank her for getting them in on short notice. They walk out still holding hands, making their way slowly back to the rail metro station.
> 
> “Hey,” Harry says, pulling Zayn to a stop. “This was nice, what made you think of it?”
> 
> Zayn shrugs and smiles. “I don’t know. You love LA so I figure, once we make it, maybe you might like a place like this.”
> 
> Harry beams back at him and leans in, kissing his cheek gently. “Thank you,” he whispers. He hears Zayn’s sharp inhale and pulls back slightly, eyes drawn to his parted lips. Harry swallows hard, can’t tear his gaze away, and he thinks Zayn might kiss him back if he were to lean in.
> 
> He’s going to, he closes his eyes and makes to move closer, when the sound of a passing car screeching to a halt startles them apart and the moment passes.
> 
> They don’t hold hands on the way back to the hotel and Harry’s palm tingles for the rest of the day.

~*~

Zayn stands back from the small crowd greeting Lottie and Steven, only making his way forward when she sees him and beckons him closer. He can’t help but smile as he hugs her, feeling the same mix of proud and fond as he had when Doniya had gotten married in a much smaller ceremony the year before.

She pulls back first, a bright smile on her face and Zayn’s almost _surprised_ at how different she looks from the little girl he’d met twelve years ago. She’s twenty-three, and now _married_ , and Zayn regrets that he hasn’t always been the best at keeping track of her life.

“Mrs. Sinclair,” he teases, voice low and warm. She’s flushed pretty from all the attention but still swats at his arm gently. The Tomlinson sisters have always been hitters, he remembers fondly.

“Thanks for coming, Zee. I know it’s weird-,” she trails off, looking over her shoulder, presumably for Harry.

He squeezes her hands until she looks at him again. “Don’t even _think_ about it. Harry and me, we’re completely fine.” She glares at him and he gives her his most winning smile. “Promise.”

“You’re a complete _liar_ , Malik. Don’t you know you have to tell the bride the absolute truth?”

He laughs but doesn’t argue, hugging her tight once more before turning to shake Steven’s hand and stepping away.

He’s debating whether he should go to the bar for something heavier than the champagne being served when someone comes up behind him. He should startle, should maybe feel some surprise that Harry hasn’t yet learned what personal space is, but some part of him has been waiting for this moment all day, and he hardly reacts.

“Lovely ceremony,” he hears, voice deep and slow behind him.

He inhales deep, closing his eyes when the faint scent of Harry’s shampoo mixing with his cologne hits his senses. He can’t control the way his body leans automatically towards him, instincts overwhelming him when a hand comes up to brush his elbow gently.

Harry’s fingers are warm through his jacket and he opens his eyes, the touch too familiar after such a long time. He pulls away and walks determinedly to the bar, ignoring him when Harry calls out his name.

The choices he’d been considering earlier have suddenly become much less difficult to decide between: he’s going to need something a bit stronger than champagne to make it through the rest of this day.

_~*~_

 

> They’re on a plane to America, just before the release of ‘Up All Night’ in the States, when Harry comes to terms with the fact that his crush on Zayn really _isn’t_ going anywhere. He’s got Zayn curled into his side, long eyelashes fluttering against the cut of his cheekbones as he sleeps, his head resting on Harry’s shoulder. He’s convinced that nothing and no one has ever looked so beautiful before.
> 
> He looks around for Louis out of habit but the older lad is distracted, whispering with Liam while the rest of their row naps. Harry can’t hear what they’re saying, but he can see Louis’ face over the back of Liam’s shoulder, can see the way a smile is crinkling his eyes and Harry feels for a moment like he may be missing something. Louis looks over then, sees him staring and smiles wider. Harry grins until Louis’ attention quickly focuses back on what Liam’s saying.
> 
> Zayn’s stirring next to him, shifting where he’s pressed against him. He turns back and watches him blink awake.
> 
> “We there yet?” he asks, voice rough.
> 
> “Not yet, almost.”
> 
> “ _Almost_ ,” Zayn repeats, burrowing into the space where Harry’s neck turns to shoulder. His lips are slightly chapped where they brush his skin and Harry represses a shiver. “Starting to think of home as wherever you boys are.”
> 
> Harry dips his head and kisses Zayn’s temple lightly, leaning his head back and trying to let Zayn’s rhythmic breathing lull him to sleep.
> 
> *
> 
> Zayn’s in with Harry after their _Kid’s Choice Awards_ performance and they stumble into their room together, laughing and calling out goodbyes to the other boys. They’re a little drunk on celebratory champagne and can’t stop gushing about the day.
> 
> “Did you _see_?” Harry’s asking him as they shut the door, his back to the wood as Zayn falls against his chest, laughing. “Will _bloody_ Smith, mate.”
> 
> Zayn nods in agreement, his forehead pressing against Harry’s throat and his smile brushing his sternum. Harry sucks in a breath at the glancing touches and his abdomen tightens, his dick suddenly half-hard. Zayn must notice the change, because he presses his hand flat to Harry’s chest and tilts his head back to look him in the eye.
> 
> Harry’s latest growth spurt had given him a height advantage against all of the boys but he notices it the most now when he has to lean forward just slightly to meet Zayn’s gaze evenly. He’s hit with a sense of _deja vu_ , can almost sense the smells and sounds of Koreatown in the air, and he’s determined to not let this moment pass, too.
> 
> Zayn’s eyes fall to his mouth and he leans closer. Harry has only a moment to realise he’s finally going to do it, going to kiss the boy he’s been half in love with for two years, before he pushes forward to close the gap, their lips meeting.
> 
> The kiss is immediately intense, mouths opening and tongues licking out to taste. One of Zayn’s arms wraps around his neck to pull Harry in closer, his other hand fisting in his shirt where it remains on his chest. His hands are gripping Zayn’s waist hard enough to bruise, fingers spanning his back and almost long enough to touch over his spine.
> 
> They move together towards the bed without discussion, Zayn whimpering against his mouth, until they stumble over each other’s feet and have to pull apart to avoid hitting the floor. Harry’s breathing is laboured, eyes flickering between where Zayn’s lips are shiny from Harry’s mouth and his shirt is wrinkled from Harry’s hands.
> 
> He whips off his shirt and Zayn follows suit, coming close and fitting their mouths together, bare chest against bare chest. With a sigh, Zayn tilts his head back further, opening his mouth and going pliant when Harry threads his fingers through Zayn’s hair, large hands keeping him at the exact angle he needs to lick into Zayn’s mouth.
> 
> Harry’s flying _so_ high, never wants to stop, and he whimpers pathetically when Zayn does eventually pull back. Zayn shushes him, smiling and leaning in to place a sweet kiss against Harry’s bottom lip, and he opens his eyes to watch as Zayn steps out of his trousers. He sits on the edge of the bed and scoots himself back, settling his head against the pillows and staring at Harry.
> 
> “ _So fit_ ,” he breathes, a hand slipping under the waistband of his pants as his eyes narrow slightly.
> 
> Harry watches the way the fabric moves with his fist and he yanks open his own fly, pushing his trousers and pants down together and climbing up the bed, settling over Zayn. His pupils are wide, the honey-coloured irises reduced to a simple ring around deep black and Harry presses down against Zayn, their hips flush so their cocks align when Zayn slides his hand out and digs his fingers into Harry’s shoulder.
> 
> Harry absolutely _keens_ as Zayn arches his back and fits their hips even closer together, only a single layer of fabric separating them. He fits their lips together again as they rock against each other, out of sync but just on the right side of perfect.
> 
> “We should have done this sooner,” Zayn breathes against his mouth, laughing between kisses. “ _Fuck_ , why haven’t we done this before?”
> 
> Harry laughs back, nibbling gently on Zayn’s jawline.
> 
> Zayn fists a hand in his hair, scratching his nails against his scalp and sucking in a harsh breath when Harry’s teeth get rougher. “This beats getting myself off any day.”
> 
> Harry feels like a bucket of ice water’s been splashed on his naked back. He moves off of Zayn quickly, scrambling to stand up and pull his pants back on.
> 
> Zayn’s sitting up on the bed when he looks back, concern on his face. “Hazza?”
> 
> Harry shakes his head, doesn’t know what to say. Zayn thinks tonight is the two of them just getting off together, but to Harry it’s so much more, _too_ much more. He feels his stomach roll and rubs his hands over his face, feeling dejected.
> 
> “Don’t feel so great. All that champagne,” he mumbles.
> 
> “Sorry, babe. Do you want any seltzer or anything?”
> 
> “No,” he assures, pulling his jumper back on. “I just don’t want to upchuck mid-snog.”
> 
> Zayn pulls a face. “Yeah, deffo not interested in that, mate.”
> 
> Harry sits on the bed again, Zayn’s hand coming up to rub his back gently.
> 
> “It’s probably for the best,” he says with a sigh, the hand running along his spine stopping as he speaks. “We probably shouldn’t do this, can’t risk anything weird with the band.”
> 
> Zayn’s hand resumes its circles slowly and when he speaks, he doesn’t sound hurt, just confused and a bit hesitant. “The band is important, for sure. I guess we shouldn’t make such a big decision when we’re pissed, yeah?”
> 
> Harry nods, relieved. He might not get everything he wanted from Zayn, but he doesn’t think he’s going to lose him as a friend. That would be completely unbearable.
> 
> He tries to smile at Zayn but knows how forced it must look. “I’m gonna take a shower. I’ll be quiet after, if you wanna get some sleep.”
> 
> “Nah,” Zayn says as he shrugs his shirt back on and stands, grabbing his trousers. “Think I’m gonna go find Niall, said he might go out for a bit.“ He looks at Harry for a moment, uncharacteristically hesitant. “We’re okay, still, right?”
> 
> Harry nods and his smile feels more genuine when he replies, “Of course we are.”

~*~

Zayn’s settled at a stool, elbows on the bar top, when Harry makes it through the crowd and takes a seat next to him. Zayn orders a drink from one of the pretty boys tending the bar, trying not to listen as Harry orders his usual.

They sit in silence until their drinks are served, Zayn immediately taking a sip of his while Harry stirs his straw, ice _tinkling_ against the glass. Zayn wants to turn and look at him but he _can’t_ , isn’t ready to see up close all the subtle ways Harry’s changed without him.

“When you talked to Louis earlier,” he starts finally, “did you tell him you’d leave me alone?”

It’s something he can’t stop thinking about, because Harry might be tenacious, but he’s never been outright _cruel_ , and if Louis had told him to stay away, he would have. Zayn knows something else was said.

“No?” Harry answers, obviously confused. “Lou _told_ me to talk to you.”

He isn’t really surprised by the admission. Louis’ always had a compulsive tendency to sort problems, especially ones that didn’t involve him. Of _course_ he wouldn’t be able to resist trying to fix Zayn and Harry. It’s one of the reasons Zayn pulled away from the lads, just to avoid the awkward forced conversations and earnest attempts to patch things up.

He finishes his drink quickly, coughing as it burns his throat and signaling for another. “So talk,” he shrugs, staring at the bar top.

“I miss you.”

The words hang in the air between them, all other sounds blocked out until his drink is set in front of him, the _clink_ against the bar top jolting him out of his thoughts. “You _miss_ me?” he hisses. “Since when?”

He can hear Harry pouting as he speaks his next sentence. “Zayn, I never _stopped_.”

Laughter fills the air, a bitter, harsh sound that’s too high to be natural. It takes Zayn a moment to realise _he’s_ the one laughing and then it’s even harder to stop, chortles forcing their way through his body and out his mouth. He tries to bite his fist to muffle the sounds he’s making, but he isn’t sure it’s making a difference.

“I’m sorry,” he chokes out, borderline hysterical. “I’m not- not trying to _laugh_ , I promise.”

“Then _don’t_ ,” Harry huffs. “People are starting to stare.”

Zayn forces himself to take several deep breaths through his mouth, exhaling completely before inhaling again. He can hear the frustration in Harry’s voice and knows he’s being a complete tit to him, but he almost feels like if he doesn’t laugh he’s just going to cry and he is _done_ crying over Harry Styles.

“Did you _miss_ me when you fucked off to LA?” he says once he’s calm, turning to finally look at Harry. His skin is tan, his eyes as green as they’d looked across the church. His hairline is slightly higher, but his curls are the same chocolate brown as when he’d been sixteen and charming smiles out of everyone he spoke to. Zayn wonders if his dimples are as deep, his smile as wide.

Harry’s far from smiling now. His brow is furrowed and his eyes are sharp. “I needed some time, I was angry.”

“You _came out_ , Harry. You left your ring behind, flew to Los Angeles and came out without me.”

Harry stands, coming closer in anger. His voice is faster than Zayn’s heard before but very low when he says, “ _You_ weren’t ready. I waited five years to do it _with_ you and you weren’t ready. You told me to go, so I did.”

“ _I_ needed time,” Zayn bites out, throwing back Harry’s words. “Everything was happening with Liam and the band was over. You didn’t even give me a _day_ before you were pushing me. And I didn’t think you’d take me seriously when I told you to go. I just wanted you to _want_ to stay.”

“I don’t know what you want to hear from me. I’m sorry. I messed up. I got on a plane without you and I never called. But you didn’t either.”

Zayn chugs his drink quickly and stands, chest pressed to Harry’s for a long moment before he remembers to step back. “I haven’t been a part of your life for _five years_ , Harry. You can’t _possibly_ miss me.”

Harry’s face is pale under the tan, the apples of his cheeks bright in contrast to the flashing of his eyes. He’s shaking, Zayn realises, seeing it in his hands and in the faint tremble of his bottom lip. He can’t believe he’s affecting Harry this much and he bites his tongue, instantly regretting messing up his chance to fix things.

It’s too late now.

Harry crowds closer to him again, leaning in so his lips brush Zayn’s ear. “I _have_ missed you. And you being shitty to me right now,” he hisses, “isn’t going to erase the fact that you’ve missed me, too.”

Zayn doesn’t move even when Harry pulls back, grabbing his neglected drink from the bar top and stalking away. He sees Louis and Fizz watching him from across the dance floor, knows they’ve seen enough from the identical frowns on their faces. He accepts a pointedly poured water from the bartender and walks away with a sigh, heading towards his seat as a light bell sounds for the beginning of dinner.

_~*~_

 

> Playing to a sold-out Madison Square Garden has Harry feeling sky-high. He grabs Zayn and Niall in a hug directly after their bow, pulling away long enough for Louis and Liam to run into them as well. They chase each other up the stage to mess with the band, drawing out the screams of the crowd and basking in the moment they have before they need to get to their marks.
> 
> He’s completely giddy and at ease, his body relaxed as he throws himself around the stage in a close approximation of actual dancing. He looks up at the other boys, eyes fixed on Zayn when he sees the smile lighting up his face. He’s less than graceful when he climbs up to their platform, stopping at his mark and waving as he’s lowered under the stage.
> 
> Louis jumps to the ground before his platform’s stopped, crowing as he rushes the boys for another group hug, this one longer and just for them. They’re all sweaty and gross but they push as close as they can, heads bowed together, as they breath in deep for several long moments. He’s squeezed between Lou and Niall, biting down on his beaming grin when he looks up and finds Zayn watching him, eyes heavy.
> 
> Things have been mostly normal between them since the KCAs but every so often, the air between them turns heated and charged, and Harry will second-guess his decision that day.
> 
> They break apart from each other eventually, hugging their crew and staff together and piling onto the band when they come off-stage. There’s champagne being passed around, but the boys decline and hurry instead to the bus out back that’s been waiting for them in the after-show commotion. They rush on board, still in their sweaty clothes, the adrenaline keeping their spirits high as they shout over each other on the ride to their hotel for the night.
> 
> They’re as quiet as they can be with their personnel, sounding like a herd of wild animals as they make their way through the lobby and up to their rooms, despite their best efforts. They separate to shower and change before going out for the night. Harry slips into his room and gets ready quickly, squeezing into his tightest black jeans and throwing on a soft t-shirt with a wide collar after his shower, taking a moment to look at himself in the mirror and ignoring the voice in his head that wonders how Zayn will react, if he’ll like the way his jeans hug his thighs or the way his collarbones are on display.
> 
> He’s the first one back in the hall and pouts for a second, too hyped to sit and wait. He uses his spare key for Louis’ room, intending to pester him while he styles his hair. He pushes his back against the door to open it, trying to shove his keycard back into his too-tight pockets.
> 
> “ _Boo Bear_ ,” he sing-songs, flipping his hair from his face as he gets caught up in his own feet and stumbles his way into the room. The door _clicks_ closed behind him as he regains his footing, laughing at himself. The sight in front of him, though, kills his voice mid-giggle as his blood runs cold.
> 
> Louis’ up on his knees and naked on the bed before him, twisted at the middle to face the door, his face pale and eyes wide. Harry can’t meet his eyes for too long, however, gaze drawn to Liam on his back underneath Louis’ spread thighs.
> 
> A buzz is filling his ears and he wants to look away- _honestly_ , he doesn’t want to see any more of this- but he can’t tear his eyes from where Liam’s hands are resting against Louis’ bare arse.
> 
> Nothing about the scene in front of him reads new or post-show high. Even when Liam guides Louis off and they get dressed quickly, it’s done with such an ease and gentleness that Harry thinks back on the last few months, trying to find the day that Liam started holding onto Louis like _that_ , the day when Louis’ tolerance of Liam shifted into something welcoming.
> 
> He’s drawing a blank, eyes fixed to the rumpled sheets until Louis comes up to him. He’s wearing what seem to be his own pants but Liam’s jumper and the intimate sight somehow startles him more than the sex had.
> 
> “I’m sorry, Haz,” Louis’ whispering to him, grabbing onto his hands. Liam’s in just his undershirt as leaves the room, sharing a look with Louis that Harry can’t read. Harry’s _always_ been able to read Louis’ looks.
> 
> “How long?” he asks, when the door closes again.
> 
> Louis shrugs but doesn’t meet his eyes. “A while, I guess.”
> 
> “Since when… how?” Harry’s voice is rough and he feels like he’s forcing some of the words out.
> 
> “Since the night of the KCAs.”
> 
> “But,” Harry steps back where Louis can’t reach, “that was _eight months_ ago, Lou. Why didn’t you tell me?”
> 
> Louis looks at him again, blue eyes sincere. “Hazza, we wanted to but… it was just so weird, yeah? We hooked up that night and weren’t going to let it become a thing and then…” he trails off, biting his lip and turning around to face the bed.
> 
> “What about the band? That’s what you always told me about Zayn.”
> 
> Louis spins back around, clearly annoyed. “That’s why we weren’t going to do anything else!” he snaps. His shoulders lower, and he takes a breath before continuing. “But then we just kept going and it never seemed like the right time to tell you lads. It all got to be so _simple_ , sneaking around.”
> 
> The buzzing in Harry’s ears is only getting louder. He can’t stop thinking about the chance he and Zayn had that night, how simple it might have been to start something from there. He backs up further until he’s flush against the wall, head up and trying to make sense of things.
> 
> “You _told me_ not to go for Zayn.”
> 
> “I know.”
> 
> “You told me the band was most important. You told me my crush would go away.”
> 
> “I _know_ , Haz. I’m sorry.”
> 
> “It never went away!” he shouts, words tearing their way from his throat as he smacks his hand against the wall behind him.
> 
> Louis bites his lip and doesn’t speak, coming closer warily. Harry sinks down, elbows on his knees when he hits the ground. Louis settles onto the floor next to him against the wall, arms pressed together before leaning his head on Harry’s shoulder.
> 
> “Hazza, I swear to you, I didn’t know you were still gone for Zayn. I thought you’d brushed that away a long time ago, else I would have told you about Liam. I promise.”
> 
> “Why didn’t you anyway?” he breathes, feeling calmer after his outburst.
> 
> “We wanted to be sure before we told you boys.”
> 
> Harry shifts away slightly and Louis lifts his head to look at him. “Are you?” he asks. “Are you sure yet?”
> 
> The soft smile stretching Louis’ face is so similar to the one he saw on the plane to America, and Harry suddenly feels like a fool for not realising anything was happening before now.
> 
> “I think we’re sure. He told me he loved me today.”
> 
> Harry smiles, genuine, and pulls Louis to his chest for a hug. “Sorry I yelled.”
> 
> “Sorry I lied.”
> 
> “Sorry I cock-blocked.”
> 
> “ _Yeah_ ,” Louis sighs, put-out, “you should be.”
> 
> They cuddle on the floor for a minute, Louis’ hands against his waist gently.
> 
> Louis speaks next. “Zayn told Liam about something that happened between you two in Los Angeles, but Liam wouldn’t tell me. Anything you want to share?”
> 
> Harry closes his eyes, remembering the smell of downtown LA, the sounds of Koreatown, and the way Zayn’s hand had felt in his own when they looked at the apartment together.
> 
> “No,” he says slowly, though he does shift back and stand, reaching a hand down to help Louis up. “Nothing to share. But I need to go talk to someone.”
> 
> Louis smiles knowingly, the prat, and Harry smacks a kiss to his forehead before walking out of his room and going to Zayn’s door.

~*~

Zayn’s seated near the wedding party, one table over from Louis and Liam. Harry and Niall are at a table behind him, and every so often during dinner he can hear Niall’s laugh and Harry’s slow drawl carry across the way. He’s sat with a mixed group, some new faces from Steven’s side and some old from Lottie’s, people she’d befriended on tour. Caroline and her daughter are here, newly thirteen year-old Brooklyn giving Zayn a high-five and kiss hello before scampering off to sit with her little sister and the other children.

He finds he’s having more fun than he’d originally thought he would. He meets Raem, the man sat to his right between him and Caroline, and they exchange pleasantries easily enough. There’s a couple seated to his left that are completely hysterical, bickering fondly and discussing the mishaps they’d encountered when flying in from Boston. Zayn’s laughing more than he has in years, lost in conversations until the last plates are cleared and the speeches are about to begin.

He leans back in his seat to shift his attention to the head table, startling slightly when he feels an arm slung across the back of his chair.

“Oh, sorry,” Raem says, taking his arm back and leaning his elbow on the table in front of him. Zayn shrugs, unsure why his first concern is if anyone had seen that, what Harry had thought if he had.

Colin, Steven’s best man, stands to get their attention. He smiles at everyone once they’ve all quieted, introducing the bride’s father for his speech. Mark stands and thanks Colin, turning to the guests.

“I want to start by welcoming everyone. For any who don’t know me, I’m Mark, Lottie’s father. I’ll be stumbling through the first speech so Steven’s and Colin’s will sound better by comparison.”

A polite chuckle makes its way through the crowd and Zayn loses himself in the words as Mark expertly balances singing Lottie’s praises with telling embarrassing tales of her previous beaux. Zayn splits his attention between Lottie- dabbing her eyes with a tissue- and Louis- beaming and rolling his eyes when his stepfather begins to get weepy himself.

He stands with the other guests as they raise their glasses to toast the couple, sipping his champagne and letting his eyes roam. He’s caught immediately, Harry already looking at him when his eyes land on his table. Harry smiles softly, slightly hesitant, and tips his glass a bit in Zayn’s direction. He feels himself flush and sits down again, turning back to the head table where the groom is standing.

Steven’s speech is brief compared to Mark’s. He thanks Lottie’s parents and then his mother, taking a moment to recognise his father, who passed before he met Lottie. He looks to his new bride and tells her how much his father would have loved her, and how much _he_ does. Zayn can hear a faint sniffle in the chorus of weepers and sneaks another glance towards Harry, who’s got his handkerchief in his lap and a suspicious shine to his eyes.

He catches Zayn again, and so many things about this moment remind him of the countless weddings he’s attended with Harry in the past. He debates with himself for just a moment before reaching for his glass, slightly lifting it in Harry’s direction and blaming his actions briefly on the four- no, _five_ \- drinks he’s had since he arrived three hours ago.

The beam he gets in return makes something in his chest flutter and he turns back to the front with a smile on his lips. He meets Louis’ eyes when he’s facing forward again, and the smirk on his face tells Zayn his little moment did not go unnoticed and, _yes_ , Louis will be using it against him for the foreseeable future.

He flips him off discreetly and listens to the rest of Steven’s speech and the entirety of Colin’s toast with a smile on his face.

_~*~_

 

> Harry stands in front of Zayn’s door for a long moment without doing anything. He suddenly realizes he’d kicked Liam out- worries he might have sought out Zayn after- but he hears nothing when he presses his ear to the door. He steps back a bit, into the middle of the hallway, jumping several times and shaking his hands out to get some adrenaline pumping through him, needing one last burst of energy to convince him what he’s doing is right. He steps forward again, knocking softly at first, and then harder when he feels the buzz of endorphins through his veins.
> 
> The door opens after he’s taken to smacking his palm against the wood. Zayn’s clearly still getting ready, hair damp from the shower and jeans undone, probably slipped on when he heard Harry pounding on the door. He’s got a vest on inside-out and a surprised look on his face and Harry thinks he’s beautiful.
> 
> He steps back when Harry all but shoves his way into the room, pacing to the end of the bed before turning and coming up to Zayn again. The door’s closed and Zayn’s leaning his back against it, watching him with an unreadable expression on his face.
> 
> “Whazza matter, Harry?” Zayn asks, clearly unable to read the situation.
> 
> “If I kissed you right now, what would you do?”
> 
> It isn’t what Harry had thought he’d say, but it gets a reaction from Zayn all the same, his eyes widening and his lips parting. He takes a breath without answering, stepping forward until he’s close enough to touch Harry’s chest if he reached out a hand. “I don’t know,” he says slowly. His eyes flick to Harry’s mouth and he licks his lips.
> 
> The unconscious move has Harry wanting to close the distance, but he holds himself back.
> 
> “Is this like the KCAs?” Zayn asks.
> 
> Harry shakes his head, adamant. “This is something I’ve been wanting for a very, _very_ long time.”
> 
> Zayn shuffles a half-step closer and reaches his hand out, touching his fingers tentatively to Harry’s jaw, before cupping his cheek. “I’d kiss you back.”
> 
> “Yeah?” Harry breathes, turning his head to press a soft kiss to Zayn’s palm.
> 
> Immediately, Zayn tears his hand away and reaches for Harry’s with both of his, bringing his hand to his lips and pressing them gently to the same fleshy part below Harry’s thumb. “Yeah,” Zayn replies, breath warm against Harry’s skin.
> 
> Harry groans and lets himself press forward, arms wrapping around Zayn’s waist. Zayn lets out a shaky exhale, one hand going to the nape of Harry’s neck and the other going back to his cheek. Harry pulls Zayn closer until they’re flush against each other.
> 
> He lowers his head and watches as Zayn closes his eyes. “Been wanting to do this since I met you,” he confesses, lips millimeters from Zayn’s, waiting.
> 
> He doesn’t make him wait long, Zayn pushing up on his toes enough to bring their mouths together gently. He doesn’t rush anything, keeps it calm unlike their first kisses, and Harry feels himself melting into it.
> 
> Zayn pulls back after a moment, just far enough away to break the kiss. His eyes are still closed, lashes casting shadows on his cheekbones even in the shitty hotel room lighting, and Harry’s _so_ far past the point of no return right now. He presses forward to capture his lips again but Zayn pulls further away before he can, his eyes blinking open.
> 
> “After last time… I thought you were trying to let me down easy, saying that stuff about the band,” Zayn whispers, never breaking eye contact.
> 
> Harry shakes his head and closes the distance between them easily when he tries again. “ _Never_ , I wanted that night to happen so badly. I thought it was just fun for you, and I couldn’t handle getting so close to what I wanted and not being able to keep it.”
> 
> “And then,” Zayn says, hands pressed to Harry’s chest as he speaks, “You got papped with that redhead and I just… I thought maybe…”
> 
> He trails off when Harry shakes his head again and interrupts. “Zayn, she was just a friend. I don’t even have room in my thoughts for anyone else, it’s you. I just… I can only see _you_.”
> 
> Zayn flushes and his eyes sweep closed once more. Harry presses a kiss to the apple of each cheek before trailing his mouth down to fit their lips together again, Zayn’s hands sliding up his chest and wrapping around the back of his neck.
> 
> *
> 
> Harry becomes _obsessed_ with the sounds Zayn’s making: the soft whimpers against his lips, the way his breath hitches when he pushes inside, the groans he lets out when Harry drags his nails down Zayn’s back. Harry tries to keep quiet under him, doesn’t want to miss a single moan or whisper, but he can’t help the sounds being pushed from his own mouth in the same rhythm as Zayn’s thrusts, head thrown back against the pillow.
> 
> A pillow’s shoved under his hips to give them a better angle and Zayn’s hand is keeping one of Harry’s legs slightly to the side, thrusting in deep as he leans in to kiss along his jaw. Harry’s overwhelmed, so lost in the feeling of Zayn moving inside him, a constant whine coming from his mouth as Zayn leans back and lifts both of his legs, hitching them higher and changing the angle so he’s brushing against Harry’s prostate with every thrust.
> 
> “So beautiful,” Harry breathes, hands reaching down and pressing against Zayn’s chest and dragging down his abdomen, muscles tight from exertion.
> 
> Zayn chokes out a laugh, groaning through his teeth as he grinds inside. “ _You’re_ the beautiful one, Haz. ‘M so close already, can’t believe this is really happening, babe.”
> 
> Harry whimpers and slides his hands to his own chest, fingers pinching his nipple as his other hand slips down his sweaty skin and wraps around his cock. He tries to tug himself off in rhythm with Zayn’s thrusts but he’s soon too close to focus, his breath catching as he comes, gasping as he spills against his stomach.
> 
> He rests his messy hand low on his belly, reaching his other for Zayn and dragging him close for a kiss, trying to fight the part of him that’s hazy and useless after orgasm. He tries to shift and rock his hips, but soon gives up when it makes it harder to kiss, letting himself go pliant as Zayn continues to thrust until he comes with a moan against Harry’s mouth.
> 
> They come down together, Zayn taking care of the condom while Harry gets up for a flannel, wiping himself off as best he can. He settles into bed after, watching Zayn smoke where he’s perched near the window.
> 
> “It doesn’t open,” he laughs around an exhale, the smoke creating a hazy trail up to the ceiling. “I could just as well smoke over there.”
> 
> “Looks nice,” Harry laughs, “you look proper pensive and artsy, silhouetted by New York City skyrises.”
> 
> Zayn giggles and smiles at him, stubbing out his cigarette and slipping into bed next to Harry, settling on his back and opening his arms for Harry to shift into his chest.
> 
> “M’pretty sure I’m half in love with you,” Harry whispers, head resting on Zayn’s shoulder, hand cupping his far side.
> 
> Zayn scoots away a bit and rolls to face him on his side, leaning in for a kiss and pressing his hand to Harry’s chest, right above his heart.
> 
> “M’pretty sure we’re both more than half,” he responds when he pulls back. Harry smiles and Zayn back in to kiss, once more and then once again. He pulls back after a moment and raises his hand, showing Harry a small empty spot near his wrist. “‘M gonna get a tattoo right here,” he whispers.
> 
> “Yeah? Of what?”
> 
> “Don’t know yet. But something that will remind me of tonight forever. For MSG and for us, new beginnings.”
> 
> Harry bites his lips against a silly smile, bringing Zayn’s arm closer and pressing his lips against the bare skin.
> 
> “I think that’s a brilliant idea.”

~*~

Zayn’s stood near the back of the crowd as Lottie and Steven cut the cake and he isn’t surprised when he senses Harry behind him, turning slightly to meet his gaze and giving him a soft smile. Harry beams in return, and Zayn feels a bit of relief.

He keeps his voice low so to avoid attracting attention to them. “So, ah, I should apologise.” He rubs the back of his neck sheepishly with his hand, feeling fidgety. “I was a complete arse earlier, and that wasn’t fair.” He looks around but no one’s paying them attention and he leans in closer. “What happened was so long ago, I’m sorry for bringing it up again.”

He offers Harry his hand to shake but Harry doesn’t take it at first, staring at it for a long moment. Zayn’s convincing himself Harry isn’t going to move, is about to drop his hand and drink this party out of alcohol, when Harry surprises him and pulls him into a hug, strong arms wrapping around his shoulders and smushing his outstretched arm between them. He squeezes once and lets go, stepping back. “I forgive you. Friends?”

Zayn laughs, caught off-guard. “Of course, yes. Friends.”

He turns back to the cake, watching as Liam drags his fingertip through his slice’s frosting and brings the digit up to smear a line down Louis’ nose. Louis’ smile every time Liam does something mischievous has always been overwhelming and this time is no different, and Zayn wonders, just for a second, how it would have felt to be able to do this with Harry.

Harry must sense this- or, he’s become psychic- because he leans in close from behind Zayn. “You would have divorced me on the spot,” he says with a laugh. “Burned the marriage license and called the officiant back.”

Zayn finds himself smiling at that and doesn’t deny it. He doesn’t pull away from Harry either, his elbow brushing Harry’s forearm when they reach for the slices of cake passed to them. Without discussing it, they move in sync away from the gathered guests, until they’re outside the circle of the party, shrouded by nightfall as they eat in silence. He can see Niall talking and joking with the ushers and that reminds Zayn about his conversation with Liam earlier.

“So, Liam asked me to be one of his ushers today,” he says as nonchalantly as possible.

Harry turns to him with a smile, the lights around the dancefloor casting shadows across his face. “Lou said he would. Are you okay with me accepting Louis? I told him I wouldn’t if you didn’t want me to.”

“Don’t be silly, Harry. Of course I’m okay with it. I would never keep you from something like that.”

He nods and turns back to watch the guests, taking another bite of his cake. Zayn clenches his jaw to suppress his tendency to babble during awkward silences, trying to ignore that habit as he focuses on the bride and groom taking the obligatory picture of them pressing cake to each other’s mouths.

Finally, the air between them is too thick and he can’t resist any longer. “I don’t hate you, you know that, yeah?” he asks abruptly. Harry shrugs, noncommittal, and doesn’t look at him.

He opens his mouth, _needs_ to convince Harry, when the dance floor clears and a familiar song starts to play.

_“Someday, when I’m awfully low…”_ drifts across to where they’re stood, and they’re so close together he feels Harry tense up next to him.

“Not even _possible_ ,” he mutters under his breath as Steven leads Lottie to the middle of the dance floor. Their faces, wiped clean of frosting, are bright and smiles visible across the distance as they start swaying gently. They increase their pace a bit, Steven concentrating on his feet as he spins her around.

Next to him, Harry’s shaking so hard Zayn’s actually worried for a moment, until he sees that he’s holding back his laughter and setting his cake down on the table.

“ _Harry_!” he admonishes in a stage whisper, shoving at his arm.

Harry’s mouth opens, possibly to apologise, but a loud cackle comes out instead. Zayn can see people turning to look for the source of the sound and he doesn’t even _think_ , just tugs Harry down next to him so they’re hidden by the table and chairs. Harry’s still laughing, muffling the sound with his fist and Zayn is completely helpless. He starts giggling himself, nervous and stilted at first, until the dam breaks and he’s biting his sleeve between his teeth to keep himself quiet.

There are tears running down his face and Harry is bright red across his cheeks and the long line of his neck when they finally get themselves under control. He’s caught a case of hiccups from the lack of oxygen, and he muffles them into Harry’s shoulder as they breathe next to each other and try to calm down.

“Don’t know why that was so funny,” Zayn says around a _hiccup_.

Harry snorts and shifts so they’re facing each other, only inches apart. “Don’t tell me you lost your sense of the ironic? Weren’t you going to be a fancy literary scholar?” he teases.

Zayn reaches out to push at him again, but his hand falls flat against his chest and stays there instead. He imagines he can feel the thud of Harry’s heart through the layers. Harry reaches up and circles his wrist in his long fingers, and his eyes are wide and solemn when Zayn looks up at him.

“I still have my sense of irony,” Zayn whispers, the moment suddenly heavy. He wills himself to not make a wrong move and upset the balance they’ve found.

“Would you say it’s irony, hearing what should have been your wedding song when you’re standing next to the person who should have been your husband?”

He feels for a moment like the air’s been forced from his lungs but then he glances down at the way Harry’s long, pale fingers look around his darker wrist and he’s able to breathe again.

He doesn’t answer and Harry doesn’t take his hand away.

~*~

 

> Harry isn’t _disappointed_ when their three year anniversary passes with little fanfare. He really isn’t. Zayn and he take an after-hours tour of the London Aquarium and they hold hands as they count all the different kinds of fish they see. Harry hits fifty first and Zayn lets him claim victory, pulling him into his chest and kissing him thoroughly in the blue light of the tanks.
> 
> “I’d want to paint the nursery a sea theme,” Zayn whispers against his lips, and Harry’s soaring. Zayn is always saying matter-of-fact comments about their future and Harry knows without a _doubt_ they’re going to be married one day.
> 
> Zayn had bought a new house just outside Camberley shortly before their OTRA tour and had asked Harry to move in with him, and they had settled into a somewhat domestic routine after the end of the tour. Living together was so easy with Zayn.
> 
> Harry’s just getting a little impatient; he isn’t interested in wasting another day without being Zayn’s husband. Since their first ‘I love you’s, Harry has never doubted their future. He’d just like for it to come a little faster.
> 
> So ‘disappointed’ isn’t the right word for what he feels when there isn’t a proposal at the aquarium. It’s just that… Louis had come to Harry in April and told him that he and Liam had spoken about marriage, and two months later, Louis produced a ring from his pocket in front of their families and friends and dropped to one knee, asking Liam if he’d agree to be his husband. Zayn had squeezed Harry a little tighter that day, had kissed him a little longer, had whispered “that’ll be us soon, babe” in his ear.
> 
> Soon isn’t coming soon _enough_.
> 
> He’s lying on his back across Liam’s couch, his head hanging off the edge as he bitches with Louis about it. Even from upside-down, he can see Louis roll his eyes from where he’s watching footie. He likes to think it’s with love but he’s pretty sure he’s just annoying everyone around him at this point.
> 
> He sits up quickly when he has a realization, dizzy with the movement before turning his back to look at Louis. “Am I _annoying_?”
> 
> Louis’ mouth opens quickly- a sarcastic retort already formed, no doubt- but then he takes a good look at Harry and the words seem to die on his tongue. Harry hates the look of pity that crosses his face more than anything, and he flops back onto the couch with a sigh, long curls fanned against the armrest.
> 
> “Hazza, you’re not _annoying_ Zayn into not proposing,” Louis says, voice soft and careful.
> 
> Harry hates that tone almost as much as he hates the pity that’s certainly still etched across Louis’ features.
> 
> “It’s been over _six months_ since you and Li got engaged,” he pouts. If it was anyone but Louis, he’d probably be embarrassed that he’s almost twenty-two and pouting like a toddler but, honestly, Louis’ seen much worse from him.
> 
> “Yes, but you and Zayn are different from us. Hell, if you care so much, why don’t _you_ propose?”
> 
> Harry feels his face slacken seconds before Louis starts cackling at him.
> 
> “Seriously, Haz? You didn’t even _consider_ asking him?”
> 
> Harry rolls his eyes and sits up, slowly this time. “I just never wanted to rush him, I guess. I feel like I stormed into his hotel room one night and forced his hand. I wanted to be patient for this.”
> 
> “You’re doing _such_ a great job of that,” Louis comments wryly, turning back just in time to see Gerrard attempt a goal. It’s blocked, but that doesn’t stop the noise in the stadium from increasing tenfold and transmitting through the speakers. “Look,” he says when he turns back to Harry. “You and Zayn are forever, yeah?”
> 
> Harry nods.
> 
> “Okay, so _you_ propose then. At the end of the day, it won’t matter. You’re going to be husbands no matter who asks whom. Or is it whom asks who? Eh, screw it.”
> 
> Harry smiles and feels himself relaxing against the back of the sofa, his long legs stretched out in front of him.
> 
> *
> 
> Harry’s just taken the chicken from the oven when the front door goes. He can hear Zayn greet the animals as he toes off his shoes, bare feet hardly making any noise against the wood flooring as he follows his nose to the kitchen.
> 
> His eyes widen when he sees the spread and he smiles at Harry. “What’s this, then?”
> 
> Harry feels like he must be _obvious_ , his whole body buzzing in excitement. He bites his cheek to suppress his smile when Zayn comes to him, a soft hand on his waist as he presses up on his toes to peck his lips gently.
> 
> “Just… wanted to have a nice night in before tour starts.”
> 
> “It smells great, babe. Do you need any help?”
> 
> Harry shakes his head and shoos him away. “You’re not getting the glory for tonight just because you set the table. Go wash up and we’ll eat.”
> 
> Zayn rolls his eyes and laughs, kissing Harry again before turning away.
> 
> Once he’s alone in the kitchen again, he double- then triple-checks everything, lighting the candles on the table and straightening the silverware so it’s all aligned. He fills their glasses with Zayn’s favourite white wine and is just spooning the rice onto their plates when he hears the scatter of nails on the floors signalling Zayn’s return. He lets him take his own plate to the table, before shooing the dog and cats from the room and sitting to Zayn’s right instead of his usual seat across from him. If Zayn notices, he doesn’t mention anything and Harry feels himself relax slightly.
> 
> They fall into easy conversation, discussing the amount of painting Zayn’s been doing in the room they’d converted into a studio, Harry teasing him that he’s rethinking letting him paint on their walls. Everything’s moving smoothly until Zayn mentions Doniya’s new jewelry line and Harry chokes on his wine, the ring she’d helped him design suddenly feeling heavy in his pocket.
> 
> “Sorry, wrong pipe,” he coughs as Zayn reaches over to rub his back. He’d feel more soothed from the touch if Zayn wasn’t laughing at him, eyes bright and tongue pressing behind his front teeth. Harry almost blurts it out right then, with a smile on Zayn’s face and his eyes light and happy. He doesn’t, reins in his words before they tumble out, and takes a sip of water to soothe his throat instead.
> 
> Zayn keeps his hand light on Harry’s back as they finish eating, leaning in to kiss and thank him for the meal when they’re done and he’s clearing the table. Harry lets him, uses the time to cross the room to the record player he’d insisted they set up when they moved in. He handles it carefully as it begins to play old Rat Pack tunes- adjusting it until the sound is perfect- turning away when he’s satisfied, finding Zayn watching him.
> 
> “What?” he asks, self-conscious. Maybe the music was too much.
> 
> Zayn just shakes his head and comes to stand in front of Harry, grabbing his hands. “Nothing, babe. Just thinking about how happy I am right now.”
> 
> This is Harry’s chance- his moment to say ‘we could be happy like this always’ or ‘make me happier, marry me’- but he waits too long and can’t say it. Zayn doesn’t seem to notice his hesitation, so he gets a firmer grip on Zayn’s hand, lifting it in his own while his free arm wraps around Zayn’s waist and pulls them together.
> 
> “What are you doing?” Zayn laughs, falling into step as Harry smiles at him and leads them around the table in a very loose interpretation of dancing. They’re both giggling and missing steps, goofing around until Dean Martin fades out and Frank Sinatra begins. He slows them down just a bit, his grip on Zayn’s waist tightening as he controls their movements better.
> 
> Zayn’s still smiling but his laughter is gone, and he suddenly looks as serious as Harry feels. He fits their mouths together briefly before pulling away just to sing “t _here is nothing for me but to love you and the way you look tonight”_ in Zayn’s ear, low and soft.
> 
> He feels Zayn’s sharp intake of breath and he sets Zayn’s hand down so he’s gripping his shoulder as he moves both of his hands higher on his back. He can see the moment when Zayn understands, the eye roll and soft flush that stains his cheeks as he lets Harry tilt him back in a dip.
> 
> The rush of adrenaline Harry feels is _ridiculous_ and partially primal as he eases Zayn upright again, their chests pressed together. Knowing Zayn trusts Harry to not drop him, seeing how he goes along with Harry’s silly whims without question, has his heart pumping harder. He brings their mouths together, pulling back just far enough to breathe out, “Will you marry me?”
> 
> The way Zayn pulls away from him would be almost comical if not for the fear that instantly races through Harry’s body. He closes his eyes but doesn’t let go. In all the scenarios he’d considered when going over this moment in his mind, not a single one had ended with Zayn saying _‘no’_. They’d talked about marriage so many times, he had been sure the were both on the same page.
> 
> He feels sick to his stomach until he opens his eyes. There’s an unreadable expression on his face, a mix of fond and happiness and something that Harry swears is annoyance, and he doesn’t know what Zayn’s going to say but he can’t believe he’d thought for a second it would be _‘no’_ when he’s clearly pleased.
> 
> “Come with me,” is all Zayn says, taking Harry’s hand back and pulling him out of the room.
> 
> Confused but hopeful, Harry stumbles along behind him as they rush up the stairs and down the hall to Zayn’s studio. At the last second, Zayn turns his back to the door and faces him, fingers still linked through Harry’s own.
> 
> “I’ve been working on something for a while, but I didn’t want to show you until it was finished.”
> 
> “It’s finished now?” Harry asks, heart racing as he tries to imagine what’s behind the door.
> 
> Instead of answering, Zayn turns the handle behind his back and steps into the room, encouraging Harry to follow with a quick tug of his hand. He complies, not sure what he’s seeing at first as he takes it all in.
> 
> The walls are a bright blue with sea creatures of every size and color drawn in. He can see half of the species they saw at the aquarium and some they didn’t - dolphins and orcas, crabs and jellyfish. The bottom of one wall is completely covered with every color coral he’s ever seen, and when he gets closer he can see seahorses and tiny Nemo fish swimming around.
> 
> He starts to cry, overwhelmed when he realises Zayn’s painted them a nursery, and he turns around to thank him to find Zayn against the inside of the door, the words “Will You Marry Me?” painted in white above his head.
> 
> “I was going to show you this tomorrow, I hadn’t completely finished it yet,” he starts, but Harry can’t listen anymore, moving forward towards him and pressing him hard against the door, hands coming up to cradle his head at the last moment.
> 
> He lets his adrenaline pour out of him and into the kiss, their mouths open against each other until they’re pulling away to gasp for air.
> 
> “I asked you first,” he says, biting Zayn’s bottom lip.
> 
> Zayn laughs and doesn’t deny it. “I want to marry you so much.”
> 
> “Are you saying ‘yes’?” Harry pushes, giddiness sweeping up from his feet until he’s almost _dizzy_ with it.
> 
> “Of course I am, can’t believe you thought I _wouldn’t_. Are _you_ saying yes?”
> 
> Harry nips at his lip again for the cheekiness before pulling back, brushing Zayn’s hair from his face with one hand while the other smooths down his cheek. “Yes. I’m saying yes.”

_~*~_

Harry lets go of his wrist and, after the song ends, they stand, brushing off their slacks and heading closer to the dance floor. Zayn finds Liam in the crowd and goes to him, slinging an arm around his shoulders and pulling him in for a bit of a cuddle.

“Saw you and Harry,” Liam says and Zayn just nods.

They’re silent as more couples over take the dance floor, Lottie and Steven still wrapped up in each other in the middle as an up-tempo song plays.

“I thought it’d be me and Haz, like this,” he whispers, just loud enough for Liam to hear.

“Is there any chance of, y’know, it still ending up like this for you?”

“No,” Zayn says, voice cold. “I couldn’t take losing him again.”

Liam doesn’t let him pull his arm away, wrapping his own around Zayn’s waist and keeping him close. “I don’t think you guys are the same people that you were. Maybe this time you’d get it right?”

Zayn shakes his head but stops trying to pull away. Liam steers him onto the dance floor, dancing spastic until Zayn finally smiles and lets him pull closer as the music slows.

“You just want everyone to be as deliriously happy as you are with Lou, and I love you for that. But sometimes the story is over, yeah?”

Liam frowns at him but Zayn doesn’t budge. He opens his mouth to say something- probably another bid to get him and Harry back together, Zayn guesses- when someone comes up behind Zayn and taps him on the shoulder gently.

“Mind if I cut in?” he hears as he pulls away and for one moment he honestly thinks it’s Harry- tenacious, relentless, absolutely _beautiful_ Harry- and his heart _soars_ in a way that he’s entirely too old for.

In the next moment, however, he turns around and realises the voice was too high and the accent too Southern to be who he had thought. He tries to mask his disappointment in surprise when he sees Raem standing there with his hand out.

It’s Liam who answers, who says _of course, mate_ as if he isn’t astutely aware of every thought Zayn’s processed in the last thirty seconds. He moves almost on auto-pilot, stepping closer to Raem and taking his hand. He’s pulled closer than he’d like and steps back enough to breath, Raem smiling at him and leading them in a slow, shuffle-step dance.

“I was so excited when I saw you at my table,” he says, and Zayn smiles tightly. He’s trying to focus on Raem, but his mind is whirling as he tries to figure out why he wants to be dancing with the boy who broke his heart so many years ago.

“Yeah,” he says, belatedly.

Raem just laughs and all Zayn can think is _his smile is too thin, his face is too long, his eyes aren’t the perfect color green_ and he shakes his head, trying to stop the comparisons but they just don’t end. He’s saying something else but Zayn can’t focus, can’t stop the list in his head: _legs too short, hair too dark, hands too small to make me feel anchored and safe_.

They spin just a bit so Zayn’s facing away from the bright lights and he can see a distinctive figure standing on the edge of the dancefloor, watching him, and his thoughts immediately turn: _perfect height, perfect curls, perfect smile._

He stares at Harry over Raem’s shoulder, one last thought clearing all the others from his mind.

_I’m still in love with him._

He’s so, _so_ screwed.

~*~

 

> Their fights start small at first. Simple things they bicker about, like Zayn not doing the wash or Harry staying out too late with Grimmy and the crew. Little arguments that are over almost before they begin, kisses and laughter sharp between apologies and promises to do better.
> 
> Then the fights begin to shift. Zayn wants to be in Bradford when Harry wants to be in LA. They try to do long-distance during the breaks, but it kills them both a little bit. They’re already closeted on tour and have to second-guess all of their interactions, it’s so hard not having the privacy of their breaks to act like a real couple.
> 
> Harry constantly compares them to Liam and Louis’ relationship and Zayn hates him for it a little more each time.  He knows this but can’t _stop_ , constantly drawing the lines between what he and Zayn are doing wrong and what Liam and Louis have done right.
> 
> “They’re not _perfect_ , Haz. Hell, they’re almost a guide of what _not_ to do in a relationship, secrets and lies and misunderstandings.”
> 
> Harry’s got his phone cradled between his cheek and shoulder as he waits for his coffee order. It’s afternoon in Bradford, but it’s just past six in the morning for Harry and he hasn’t been sleeping well without Zayn.
> 
> “I know they’re not _perfect_ ,” he says around a yawn, ripping open two packets of sweetener and stirring them in at the counter. No one’s recognised him yet, his beanie pulled low over his hair, but he only has a few minutes before someone inevitably catches sight of him. “I just,” he continues, smiling and wiggling his fingers around his cup at the staff in an approximation of a wave as he steps out. “I wish we were more on the same page about things, I guess. We’ve been together four years now, engaged for almost one. I figured we’d be clones by now or something.”
> 
> Zayn sighs down the line at him. “Haz, where are you?”
> 
> “That coffee place near the restaurant you like. With the purple awning, you know?”
> 
> “Yeah, I know. Are you headed home?”
> 
> Harry shrugs. “I was going to walk around a bit. Get some holiday shopping done.”
> 
> “Okay. I’m gonna go then, babe. Love you, get me something nice.”
> 
> Harry feels the conversation isn’t resolved, but he lets it go. “Okay. Love you.”
> 
> *
> 
> It’s just past nine when he pulls into his drive. He cuts the engine and gets the bags from the boot, stumbling through the door and setting them down on the floor.
> 
> He sees a figure on his couch out of the corner of his eyes and thinks for a half-second that a fan somehow got inside when he looks and sees Zayn curled up, feet tucked between the cushions and eyes closed as he dozes.
> 
> Harry can’t help smiling when he sees Zayn, walking up to him and watching him sleep for a moment, before getting his arms under his shoulders and knees, lifting him bridal style and carrying him further through the house.
> 
> “ _Mmm_ , no, wanna sleep,” Zayn mumbles, wrapping his arms behind Harry’s neck automatically.
> 
> “Let’s get you in bed first. Wish you’d’ve told me you came, I wouldn’t have gone to the shops.”
> 
> “Wanted ta surprise ya,” he says, almost slipping into sleep again. Zayn, of them all, has always been the worst on flights, and coming in from Heathrow is always particularly exhausting.
> 
> “You _did_ , very much.”
> 
> “D’ja get me something nice?”
> 
> “Yeah, babe. I think I did.”
> 
> Zayn snuggles into Harry’s pillows when he sets him down in bed, undressing both of them quickly and sliding in next to him.
> 
> “ _Liam’s_ never flown twelve hours to surprise Louis,” Zayn mumbles.
> 
> Harry stills, unsure what to do. It’s on the tip of his tongue to retort, ‘L _iam would move to the_ moon _if Louis asked,_ ’ but he doesn’t want to fight and it doesn’t matter anyway. Zayn’s here _now_. He laughs, instead, snuggling into Zayn’s side.
> 
> “Love you,” he whispers, but Zayn’s already asleep.

_~*~_

Raem doesn’t let go when a new song starts and Zayn’s trying to figure out a way to politely escape when he watches Harry approach. Zayn stops moving immediately and Raem looks where his gaze is fixed, nodding when he sees Harry stood behind him.

“Say no more,” Raem says, letting go of Zayn’s hand and walking away with a nod in Harry’s direction. Harry doesn’t say anything as he takes Raem’s place, their bodies pressed together. Zayn finds he quite likes the feeling of being so close to Harry again and he lets Harry take one hand in his as his other hand settles on the dip of Zayn’s spine, the two of them falling into step easily.

“I don’t think your boyfriend would be okay with the way he was just looking at you,” Harry says. Zayn can tell he’s trying to be conversational but he’s never been good at faking, and his voice is deep and coloured with jealousy.

“He was just being friendly,” Zayn says, his eyes locked on green as they dance.

“ _I_ didn’t like it.”

Zayn flushes and looks down, stepping on Harry’s foot by accident as he feels his nerves spike.

“But you have a boyfriend,” Harry says, trying to affect an airy voice. “So I’m just being his voice. He couldn’t make it tonight?”

Zayn doesn’t want to think about Michael, so he just shakes his head and concentrates on staying in step.

“How long have you two been together? I heard you went on holiday together?”

“Louis’ big mouth,” Zayn mutters.

Harry corrects him quickly. “Google Alerts, actually.”

Zayn lifts his head so fast he throws himself off-balance and steps on Harry’s foot again. “ _Shit_ , sorry,” he says, trying to step back to correct his stance but Harry’s grip on him is firm and he honestly doesn’t want to break it. “You have an alert on me?”

“I have one on all of you,” he says.

Zayn feels embarrassed and hopes the lights are low enough to hide the way his neck turns hot. “Right, of course.”

“I check yours almost every day.”

“You some creepy stalker?” he asks, trying to turn it into a joke but Harry doesn’t smile back.

“I told you, I miss you.”

“We’re friends, Harry. We should try to work on _that_ before we try anything else.”

Quick as a flash, Harry uses his arm to pull them even closer. “You’d be willing to try something else?” he asks, voice deep. They stop dancing, stood in the middle of the floor and ignoring the couples moving around them.

Zayn curses his choice of phrasing and the way his body responds so quickly, pliant in Harry’s hold. He drops Harry’s hands and pulls back. “C’mon,” he says, walking away. He senses Harry right behind him, smells his vegan shampoo and hears the _clack_ of his boots against the floor.

He walks until they’re behind the curtain along the back of the DJ booth, the noise and dark hiding them well enough. He has to almost yell to be heard, but he pulls Harry in close and leans in so his nose is _just_ brushing the curls around his ear. “We broke up,” he says. “Michael and I.”

Harry pulls back to look at him, brows furrowed. “Why?” he shouts.

Zayn shrugs and makes to turn away but Harry grabs his bicep and keeps them together. Zayn’s about to push him away, doesn’t want to hear the next question, but Harry’s already shouting, “Was it because of me?”

Instantly, the fight goes out of him and he lets his head hang.

“Zayn,” Harry says, pulling him closer and tilting his head up with the tips of his fingers. He thinks for a moment Harry’s going to kiss him, doesn’t know how he’s going to respond, when the music shuts off.

~*~

 

> Liam calls a band meeting a week after their tour ends.
> 
> “I’m just going to say it, then,” he starts. “I think this should be our last tour.”
> 
> Harry feels like he should be shocked but he isn’t, has felt for a while that they were nearing the end. Louis’ been talking about wanting to start a family and Niall’s met a girl from home he’s finally fallen for. He and Zayn should be on the same path as Louis and Liam, should be planning their own family, but something’s changed from when they began dating, and he isn’t sure what their futures hold.
> 
> Louis’ sitting next to Liam, holding his hand and looking at the other three with his chin out and a fire in his eyes, silently daring any of them to say anything negative. Niall’s the first to respond, smiling easily and crossing the floor to hug Liam. Zayn and Harry stand quickly and follow suit, piling into a hug and dragging Louis in as well.
> 
> They pull apart after a minute, several of them wiping their eyes but all of them smiling.
> 
> “You gonna try solo, Li?” Zayn asks, knowing Liam and Louis have been writing songs that don’t fit the group’s sound. His voice is soft and smile still wide, earnestly asking.
> 
> Liam shrugs. “Yeah, I think I might after a bit. If anyone doesn’t want-”
> 
> Four voices speak over him and he quiets, smiling.
> 
> “You know we think you’ll be brilliant, right?” Harry demands.
> 
> Liam’s cheeks are rosy and his eyes are crinkled from the width of his smile. “Won’t be the same without you lads, if I even do it at all,” he says, and they all pile in for a hug again.
> 
> *
> 
> Harry follows Zayn into their house after their last dissolution contracts are signed. His eyes are heavy from all the fine print on the contracts, but he feels a weight lifted off his shoulders. He lets Zayn take care of the dogs and starts pulling together a quick dinner.
> 
> Harry doesn’t talk much during dinner, mind whirling with all the possibilities open to them now that the band is done. He can focus on his songwriting more, Zayn can go back to school and get his English degree, maybe write like he’s always wanted.
> 
> He startles when Zayn clears the table, the sound of the silverware banging against the plates pulling him from his daydreams. Zayn smiles in apology and Harry grins back, watching as Zayn walks away to the sink.
> 
> He stands as well, coming up behind him and smoothing his hands around Zayn’s waist from behind. He kisses Zayn’s shoulder through his t-shirt, running his mouth up the side of Zayn’s neck until his lips are brushing the spot behind Zayn’s ear that drives him crazy.
> 
> True to form, Zayn’s fists clench against the edge of the sink, bum pressing back against Harry’s hips. He slips his hand up Zayn’s shirt, ghosting his fingertips along the tattoo lines he has memorized.
> 
> “ _Haz_ ,” Zayn breathes out, head falling back against Harry’s shoulder as he grinds harder.
> 
> “Mmm,” Harry agrees, free hand reaching to cup Zayn through his trousers, coaxing him to hardness. “Let’s celebrate,” he whispers, pulling Zayn from the sink with a laugh and leading him backwards through the house, a fond smile on Zayn’s face.
> 
> *
> 
> After they’ve both come down and Zayn’s taken a quick shower, they snuggle together under the duvet, facing each other.
> 
> “We can do it all now, Zee. Everything we ever said we wanted,” Harry says, excited.
> 
> Zayn smiles in return but Harry can tell he’s holding something back.
> 
> “What’s going on?” he prods.
> 
> Zayn shakes his head but doesn’t answer right away, bringing Harry’s hand to his mouth and placing soft kisses along his knuckles. Harry knows to wait for him to speak, knows how carefully he still chooses his words.
> 
> Finally, when Harry’s half-asleep and has almost forgotten his concern, Zayn’s voice breaks through the quiet. “I’m not sure about coming out.”
> 
> Harry’s eyes fly open in surprise. “I’m _sorry_?” he asks, dumbfounded.
> 
> Zayn closes his eyes and turns so he’s on his back, and Harry props himself up on his elbow, needing to see his face.
> 
> “I will, Haz, don’t look at me like that,” Zayn says, turning his head back to face him again.  “I’m just nervous.”
> 
> Harry bristles, suddenly angry. “We’re all _nervous_ , Zayn. But we’re _engaged_. And that isn’t something I want to hide anymore!”
> 
> Zayn gets up without answering him, slipping from the bed and going to his discarded trousers, pulling his cigarettes from the pocket.
> 
> Harry’s been on at him for smoking in the house, so watching him light up as he crosses to the window only irritates him further.
> 
> “ _Fuck_ , Zayn. Can’t we have a conversation without you smoking?”
> 
> Zayn looks at him and rolls his eyes, cigarette hanging from his lips as he uses both hands to lift the window. “S’not a conversation,” he mumbles around the stick. He takes it from his mouth between two fingers, blowing a trail of smoke out into the night air.
> 
> Harry’s sitting up watching him, hands fisted in the sheets around his hips. “I’m _sorry_ that talking about your future with your _fiance_ stresses you out so bad, but it was a conversation till you left.”
> 
> “It’s clearly an argument,” Zayn retorts, taking a deep pull. “And I didn’t leave, Hazza. _I’m_ right here. You’re the one who leaves.”
> 
> Harry sputters from his spot on the bed, irritated. He decides to stand up, pulling on his discarded pants and an old jumper. “I don’t leave, Zayn. I go _home_.”
> 
> “Los Angeles isn’t my home, Haz. My home is here.”
> 
> “What’s so great about London? Why won’t you even consider coming with me?” Harry knows he’s rehashing old arguments but he’s tired of tiptoeing around the big things.  Zayn needs to meet him halfway.
> 
> “M’not leaving this house.”
> 
> “But why?” Harry shouts, hands clenched at his side. “Dammit, Zayn, give me one reason!”
> 
> He’s surprised when Zayn reacts visibly, turning to look at him in disbelief. “ _One reason_?” he parrots, voice quiet but cold. He stands and stubs out his cigarette, turning to face Harry head-on across the room. “How about: the privacy laws here are so much better for children. I thought we wanted a family, wouldn’t we want to keep them safe?”
> 
> Harry’s about to reply, knows how much better things are becoming in the States for celebrities and their children, but Zayn’s already continuing.
> 
> “Need another reason? Our families are _here_. I don’t want to miss out on any more of my sister’s lives. I want to be here for my mum and _abba_. I want to be around when Gemma has kids, when Doniya does. I missed _so much_ when I was on tour, I don’t want to miss things anymore.”
> 
> He opens his mouth- why would Zayn assume Harry doesn’t want to be close to family also?- but Zayn’s coming closer and talking over him.
> 
> “This is the house I bought for us to live in _together_ , this is where we proposed. I designed my child’s nursery here, knowing it’d be years before we’d even be able to _have_ a baby. I walk past that room every day and look at what I drew for them. This is my home, this is _our_ home.”
> 
> He’s yelling when he’s finished, within reach now. He’s so close that Harry can smell the faint lingering scent of smoke on his skin. Half of him wants to hold Zayn and concede his points, wants to slip back into bed with him and fall asleep and pretend this day never happened.
> 
> The other half of him, though, is selfish and mad. The other half wants to push and poke at Zayn, wants to rile him up and break him completely out of the shell he’s been building around himself. He hears himself speaking before he realises exactly what he’s saying.
> 
> “It’s just a nursery, you can always paint another one.”
> 
> His own reaction is stronger than Zayn’s. His eyes widen and he claps a hand over his mouth, desperate to retract the words, but he’s too late. He takes his hand away and tries to grab Zayn- reaches out for his hand, his wrist, anything- but he pulls back too quickly, the space between them increasing.
> 
> “I’ve always known you were selfish,” Zayn says, voice quiet in the echoes of their yelling, “but that’s bad even for you.”
> 
> Harry can feel tears building in his eyes and a flush colouring his face. He steps forward towards him, but Zayn lifts both his hands, pleading silently for Harry to stay. He does, head hanging.
> 
> “You _know_ I didn’t mean that,” he says, voice thick. “ _Zayn_ , I-”
> 
> “Just don’t,” he cuts him off, turning away.
> 
> Harry swallows and stops talking, sniffling a bit and brushing his hand over his face. He can see Zayn’s back, can tell he’s breathing heavily from their shouting, and wishes he would have just reached out for him like he’d wanted, instead of saying the first stupidly hurtful thing he could think of.
> 
> “I think one of us should go somewhere else tonight.”
> 
> Harry can’t have heard him correctly. “What?”
> 
> Zayn doesn’t look at him, still facing the window. Harry can see a blurry reflection of him in the glass but can’t read his expression. “Maybe we need a bit of a break, too. Some time to make sure this relationship is what we both want.”
> 
> “This _is_ what I want. Zayn, _you’re_ what I want.” Harry’s stunned, completely aghast. “You’re the only thing I’ve _ever_ wanted.”
> 
> “Apparently, I’m not.”
> 
> Harry’s getting mad again, can feel himself tensing at Zayn’s familiar stubbornness. “Just because I want to live in LA doesn’t mean I don’t want _you_. I want the life we have, I just want it in LA!”
> 
> Zayn doesn’t rile again, though, won’t fight back or even look at him. “I’m not fighting with you anymore tonight about this. It’s been a long day already.”
> 
> “Where am I supposed to go in the middle of the night?”
> 
> “I almost don’t _care_ , Haz. Go to Nick’s, go to Lou’s. Hell, go to your precious LA. You’re great at running away there.”
> 
> Harry bites his cheek to keep his words in this time, turning on his heel and stomping into their closet. He grabs an overnight bag and tosses in a change of clothes, grabbing a pair of jeans and slipping into them. He looks down at his hand and hesitates for a moment before slipping off his engagement ring, placing it on an empty shelf. He comes back out to find Zayn finally facing him, face stony.
> 
> “I’m going home for a couple days,” Harry says, tone clipped and pointed.
> 
> Zayn nods but doesn’t say anything.
> 
> Harry rolls his eyes and walks out their bedroom door. He stops when he’s framed in the doorway, a hand on the wall next to him as he turns around. “I want you to come with me,” he says.
> 
> Zayn shakes his head, biting his lip, and Harry walks away.
> 
> *
> 
> He books the first flight he can, but he’s still bumming around the terminal for hours before he can board. He texts Louis to let him know he’s leaving but doesn’t expect a response, knowing it’s the middle of the night. He debates with himself before sending his flight information to Zayn.
> 
> He doesn’t get a response.

_~*~_

The shocking silence after the music dies startles them apart and Zayn looks down, seeing where he's stepped on the power cord. The DJ sticks her head around the curtain, looking at them.

"I'm all for wedding hookups," she says with a smile, accent thick, "but if you guys could go elsewhere, that'd be nice."

They apologise and offer to assist, but she waves them away. “Eh, finish what you both started,” she teases.

Harry leads Zayn away with a hand on his waist, avoiding the thickest group of wedding guests as they make their way to Harry’s table. They sit next to each other, Harry hooking his foot around the leg of Zayn’s chair and sliding him closer.

“Where’d we go wrong?” Harry asks, his elbow on the table and his chin resting on his palm.

Zayn laughs fondly. “You know what happened,” he admonishes, swinging his foot out to tap lightly against Harry’s calf.

“No, I _know_ , like, in _theory_ ,” Harry says slowly, turning to look at him. “But, I mean. We go from not speaking for five years to falling in to conversation so easily now. Why did we think it was over?”

“Haz, come on. It was a year of fighting followed by the band breaking up. We didn’t handle it well.”

“I wanted you to come after me.”

Zayn looks at his hands, folded in his lap. He nods. “I know you did.”

“Why didn’t you?”

The question is honest, no heat behind the words, and Zayn feels guilt surge through him. “I was stupid and mad.”

“Yeah,” Harry sighs, “I can understand that.”

They sit in silence for a moment, watching the dancing guests from their seats.

“I heard your new album, by the way,” Zayn says, turning back to face him.

Harry’s face lights up and he smiles, eyes bright. “Yeah?”

“Yeah, Haz. It was so great. I like your lyrics, they sound like you.”

“I mean, you’ve heard them all before,” Harry says.

Zayn tilts his head, confused.

“The _letter_ ,” Harry elaborates, hand waving.

Zayn knows he’s missing something but he isn’t sure what. “What letter?” he asks.

Harry’s face pales a bit, suddenly serious. “The letter I wrote you from the plane. I sent it once we landed.”

Zayn shrugs, his heart rate picking up. “I didn’t ever get a letter. What did it say?”

Harry laughs, a short, choked sound. “This whole time, I thought you had it.” He leans back in his chair, long legs underneath Zayn’s, sprawling out. He’s watching him closely, and Zayn flushes under the attention.

“ _What_?” he asks, irritated from the focus.

Harry just shakes his head, lips pursing. “I just. I thought you had read it and not responded.”

“Well,” Zayn says, “If you tell me _now_ I can tell you how I’d respond.”

“Dance with me first,” he says, smiling and standing.

Zayn blinks, taking the hand outstretched to him and following Harry onto the floor. Niall’s dancing with Louis, a large space cleared around them to avoid and flailing arms as they try to outdo one another- possibly trying to convince themselves they’re not growing old.

Zayn lets Harry lead, falling naturally into step with him as they sway with the beat. _This is nice_ , he thinks, Harry’s hand on his waist warm through his jacket.

_Be careful,_ he warns himself, _you could get used to this all over again._

~*~

 

> The first thing Harry does in LA is send a letter. The second thing he does is sleep.
> 
> He wakes up after five hours, chugs a glass of water and two paracetamol, and buries himself back under the duvet, sleeping another half-day before he finally gets up.
> 
> *
> 
> He tries to go about his life like normal, meets up with Erin for lunch, goes to a concert with Jeff like he used to. He writes a bit and picks out melodies on guitar, bumming around and waiting for an answer from Zayn.
> 
> His ring finger feels empty and foreign, a thin tanline the only tangible evidence he’d ever been engaged before.
> 
> *
> 
> He meets with an estate agent a week after his flight, putting his house on the market. _TMZ_ finds out quickly and _Sugarscape_ runs an article, and _still_ his phone doesn’t ring.
> 
> His house sells after a month and he chucks most of his things in storage, crashing in Erin’s spare room in the meantime. He tells her it’s only temporary, ignoring the look on her face that says she doesn’t believe him.
> 
> _TMZ_ picks up that story quickly as well.
> 
> *
> 
> Six months after their fight, Harry releases a statement coming out.
> 
> Zayn never calls.

_~*~_

Zayn catches sight of Lottie watching them where she’s taking a break from dancing. He feels suddenly self-conscious and pulls away. Harry’s face is so open, confusion etched across his features, and Zayn ducks his head, can’t look at him right now.

“‘M gonna go- loo,” he mumbles, walking away.

Thankfully, Harry doesn’t follow him. He’s washing his hands when the door behind him opens, Niall sticking his head in.

“Any funny business happening?” he asks with a smile. He must catch sight of Zayn’s reflection in the mirror, because his smile slips from his face easily and his brows furrow. “What’s wrong?”

Zayn shakes his head, turning around. “I didn’t think I would lose my mind over him again so easily.”

Niall motions for Zayn to come with him, wrapping his arm around his waist and leading them to the front of the estate, in the opposite direction of the party guests.

There’s a few smokers in a group but they’re otherwise alone, falling in step as they walk.

“So you and Hazza,” Niall begins but trails off, clearly unsure what to say.

Zayn could _laugh_ , as he isn’t sure what to say either.

“Well, I guess, first question would be, are you guys thinking about getting back together?”

Zayn shakes his head then shrugs. “I don’t know _what_ we’re thinking. There’s _so much_ bad, you know? So many fights and so many years.”

“How much good was there?”

Zayn stops walking, turning to face Niall. “What do you mean?”

“Easy pro-con list. Did the bad outweigh the good? Would you do it all again?”

“It isn’t that easy.”

“Sure it is,” Niall says, unflappable. “Katie and I do them all the time. We call them ‘checkups’, especially after a fight. Does the benefit of being together outweigh the benefit of being apart?”

“Has it ever been close?”

Niall starts walking again, leading them back up to the party. “Once, it was close. Right after Chloe was born. We’d been fighting a lot and having adjustment issues.”

Zayn’s voice is soft when he speaks again. “What happened? You never said anything.”

“Eh,” Niall shrugs. “We got through it. Worked hard and fought some more, but one day it just kind of _clicked_ that we wanted it to work.”

“If wanting is all it takes, then Hazza and I would be all set. I don’t know about him now but I know how much he wanted it to work before.”

“He’s different now, Zayn. He’s isn’t the same eighteen year-old you started dating a decade ago. He’s ready to try again, I know he is.”

“He tell you that?”Zayn asks, scoffing.

“Didn’t hav’ ta, mate. He put it all on the album. You know every word of that is for you, yeah?”

Zayn’s flustered, doesn’t answer as they turn the corner. The party has dwindled a bit since the beginning, some of the oldest and youngest guests gone. He doesn’t see Caroline anywhere and resolves to call her for lunch, set up a time to take Brooklyn for a bit. Lottie’s back on the dancefloor with her sisters, spinning Dorisaround while the twins try to teach Fizzy a synchronized dance.

He sees Harry, standing with Jay and speaking earnestly, their heads together. Harry pulls back after a moment and looks around, spotting Zayn quickly and smiling bright.

“Yeah,” Zayn answers belatedly, eyes fixed on Harry’s smile and answering with one of his own. “I think I told myself they weren’t for me but I kind of hoped they were, deep down.”

“ _So_ , does the good outweigh the bad? Could you give him another chance?”

He takes a minute before he answers, debating what to say. Harry’s smile doesn’t falter but he does turn back to Jay. She looks over and sees Zayn, waving him over. He starts towards them, turning and walking backwards so he can still look at Niall. “Honestly,” he says with a grin, “the bad could outweigh the good tenfold and I’m still going to be in love with him and want to work things out.”

He turns back around as Niall laughs. “ _Get_ _in_!” he hears him call out behind him.

~*~

 

> The strangest thing about having a broken heart is that the outside world keeps turning somehow. Harry can tell the lads feel caught in the middle, and falls out of touch with them for a bit. He hears Zayn sells their house, sees pictures of the listing online.
> 
> There’s no mention of Harry ever living in the home, and it tears him apart.
> 
> Liam releases a solo album two years after the breakup and Harry misses the launch party but goes to the first couple of shows, eyes peeled for Zayn, but he doesn’t come. He falls back into his friendship with Louis all over again, hanging off of him and listening to him talk about the house he’s renovating with Liam, about the West End show he’s producing.
> 
> Niall misses the party but flies in the next day with Katie, a slight bump under her shirt and Niall’s self-satisfied smirk the only announcement they make before Harry wraps them both in a hug at the airport.
> 
> “How far along?” he asks, looking for permission before putting his hand on the swell of her stomach.
> 
> “Five months,” she says, her accent stronger and more southern.
> 
> “I can’t believe you didn’t tell me!” he admonishes, taking his hands away and pulling Niall into another hug.
> 
> “Not over-the-phone news, is it? Wanted ta wait to see ye,” Niall mumbles into his shoulder, hugging Harry tightly back. “You’re godfather, yeah?” Niall asks once he pulls away.
> 
> “Of course I am,” Harry answers, grabbing their things and leading them out.
> 
> He drives them into the city, taking them to Niall’s place in London and listening to them bicker fondly about where to raise the baby, Katie’s place in Killarney or Niall’s house in Mullingar.
> 
> “Zayn and I had this fight.” The words are out before he realises what he’s saying, and he’s grateful he’s stopped at a light, since his first instinct is to slam on the brakes.
> 
> He glances in the rearview mirror and sees Niall looking conflicted, clearly torn between ignoring the statement and wanting to pry. Katie, however, has no qualms or reservations, piping up from the passenger seat, “Who wanted to live where?”
> 
> Harry shifts uneasily when the light changes, keeping with the flow of traffic.
> 
> “Kate, he doesn’t want ta talk about it, I’m sure,” Niall says, leaning forward and resting a hand on Harry’s shoulder.
> 
> She rolls her eyes and shifts in the seat, facing them better. “Might do a bit of good to talk it out, doesn’t seem anyone’s been asking them these things. Zayn nearly passed out when we asked him.”
> 
> “You guys talked to Zayn about it?” Harry doesn’t know what answer he wants to hear.
> 
> Katie shrugs. “Didn’t say much, shut down pretty quickly.”
> 
> “I wanted to live in Los Angeles and Zayn wanted to live here.”
> 
> Niall laughs loud from the backseat and falls back, hand clapped to his mouth. “I’m sorry, Haz, I didn’t mean to laugh I just… That’s a huge difference, yeah? Mullingar to Killarney’s about 150 miles. Los Angeles is on t’other side of the world.”
> 
> “I know,” Harry pouts, thankful that he’s pulling into their drive. “That’s what makes you guys different.”
> 
> “Was it really a big deal? Where you guys lived?” Katie asks, voice suddenly small.
> 
> Harry hesitates a moment before shrugging, slipping from the car and going to the boot to grab their things. “At the time I thought it was so important,” he says, handing a bag off to Niall. “Now, I’d live anywhere he wanted.”
> 
> They let the subject drop but make him stay for dinner and drinks. He’s coming back from washing up and pauses in the hallway when he hears them talking.
> 
> “I’ve lived in Mullingar m’whole life,” Niall’s saying. “Maybe Killarney will be a good change of scenery.”
> 
> Katie laughs, soft and muted. “I’d offer to drop the whole fight and stay in Mullingar but I really, really want to live near me mum and da.”
> 
> Niall laughs too and Harry continues walking, torn between feeling happy for his friends and wishing he would have swallowed his pride and made the same sacrifice.
> 
> *
> 
> When Chloe’s born, Harry’s in LA. He gets the first flight out but doesn’t meet her until she’s three days old. He _knows_ she won’t remember, she’ll never know he wasn’t there unless they tell her, but he feels that an uncle and godfather should be there on the first day, should be there for _all_ the days.
> 
> He rings Nick as he’s leaving the hospital, asking if he can forward the information for his estate agent.
> 
> He’s moving back home.

_~*~_

Jay makes room for Zayn when he approaches, sliding over so he can settle between her and Harry. She greets him with a kiss on his cheek, rubbing a lipstick stain away fondly, and he’s hardly surprised when a hand snakes around his waist, Harry grinning as he pulls him close.

“Hi,” he breathes, leaning in and kissing Zayn’s opposite cheek too.

Zayn rolls his eyes but he’s laughing, hand pressing Harry’s chest gently, pushing him away. “I wasn’t gone long,” he says.

“Feels like _years_ ,” Harry responds, suddenly serious.

Jay smirks and leaves them be, heading back towards her girls.

“I want to show you something,” Harry says once she’s gone.

Zayn looks at him, intrigued. “What?”

He bites his bottom lip, hard enough that it stays white for a second after he releases it. “Will you come with me? It’s a bit away.”

Zayn should say ‘no’, shouldn’t let himself be carried away by a few great hours together in years of silence, but he doesn’t even _hesitate_ to agree.

They say goodbye to Lottie and Steven, successfully avoiding any of the lads as they head back down the path to the carpark.

“Should I follow you?” he asks.

“Come with me,” is all Harry says and they head to his together, Zayn hopping into the passenger seat.

Harry stops for petrol and snacks, tossing him a bag of salt and vinegar crisps  when he gets back in. They hop on the M25, driving mostly in silence, save for the radio, until Zayn nods off near Byfleet, the day’s sunshine and busy schedule seemingly taken it out of him

He stirs awake when they stop, confused when he realises they’re in their old neighbourhood, the Camberley house they previously shared quiet in front of them. Harry’s pulled into the drive and the engine is quiet, the night around them silent as Zayn stars through the windshield, trying to figure out why Harry brought him here.

“Are you trying to be funny?” Zayn finally whispers, voice catching. He can’t look at Harry.

“ _Zayn_ , no of course not. I- I bought it. I bought our home back.”

Zayn gets out of the car, coming around until he’s stood directly in front of the path. He hears Harry come up behind him, too close in some ways but not close enough to keep Zayn from flying to pieces. He doesn’t _understand_. “Why did you buy _this_ house?”

Harry steps around until he’s in front, forcing Zayn to look at him. “I sold my place in LA almost as soon as I landed, did you know that?”

Zayn nods slowly. “I saw in the papers. Then you moved in with Erin.”

“I was crashing with her while I waited for _you_.”

“I didn’t know.” He hadn’t known. At first, he didn’t think Harry would move on so quickly, knew it wasn’t really his nature, but things between them had been so rough for _so long_ and he’d listened to the nagging voice in his head that had told him Harry had found better. When Harry hadn’t moved out from her home, he’d assumed their friendship had turned into more, just like his had with Harry in the beginning.

“That doesn’t even matter,” Harry says, waving it away. “It’s in the past. I bought this place for _you_ , for us. I want a family with you, here.”

Zayn hears him, but can’t honestly wrap his mind around the words. He’s never wanted anything _more_ than he’s wanted a family, especially with Harry. He focuses instead on the house itself, one question plaguing him.

He doesn’t know how to ask, can’t handle if the answer’s no. Finally, he croaks out, “Is my- is the nursery...?”

“The nursery is exactly the same,” Harry reassures him, obviously still in tune with his thoughts. “Do you want to see it?”

Zayn nods so quickly, he startles himself. He follows close to Harry as they walk up the path, waiting anxiously as he unlocks the door and lets Zayn slip inside. He runs up the stairs, moving on auto-pilot as he retraces the steps he’s taken countless times.

He gets to the door to his old studio and hesitates. What if it’s different? What if it’s the same? Harry isn’t behind him when he turns the knob, stepping inside.

The walls are exactly as he remembers them, save for some small spots that need to be touched up.  The flooring is darker and there’s no tarp covered painting corner that he left his last day, but every fish and sea creature he drew is exactly as he’d left it.

He walks to the jellyfish first, fingers tracing the tentacles as he tries not to cry, feeling silly.

“I was so relieved when I saw this room,” Harry says from the doorway. Zayn feels tension leave his body further, a tear slipping down his face as he lets Harry’s voice wash over him. “Running away from you was the biggest mistake of my life. Leaving this house, walking out that night, are things I will _never_ forgive myself for.”

Zayn turns around, watching as Harry wipes his eye on his jacket sleeve. He wants to go to him, wants to comfort him, but something is still holding him back.

“I don’t think I can watch you leave again,” he admits, choking the words out.

Harry doesn’t move and Zayn’s grateful, needs to voice his concerns before they get any closer.

“I’m never going away, never again. I want to spend my life with you.”

“I’m a completely different person than I was five years ago. You might not even like me anymore,” Zayn warns.

Harry laughs, an honest, breathy sound that echoes in the room. “I’ve changed, too. I changed the second I walked out that door. And I’ve been in love with every version of you I’ve ever known.”

“Who are you now?” he breathes out.

Harry walks towards him slowly, eyes never leaving his. “I’m the man you wished I was that day. I’m the one who has loved you for so long I literally cannot describe _myself_ without including you. I’m the person who’s absolutely not _interested_ in spending another day of my life without you.” He stops in front of Zayn, a second away from touching but holding himself back, waiting for something.

Waiting for _him_.

Zayn wants to go to him, wants to throw himself into Harry’s arms and forget about everything else., but he holds himself back, hands in fists behind his back as he presses against the wall.

“It isn’t going to be easy or immediate,” he warns, stalling while he tries to make sense of the last half-day.

Harry smiles at him and reaches out his hand, palm up and waiting for Zayn to reach back.

“It’s going to take a really long time,” he babbles. “And we’re going to fight and cry. I’m going to be stubborn forever, and so are you. We don’t have the band keeping us together in the hard times.  Loving you is the easiest thing I’ve ever done and losing you was so hard…”

He trails off, staring at the hand unwaveringly extended to him.

“Aren’t you _scared_?” he asks, looking back to Harry’s face.

He’s smiling, green eyes calm. “Terrified,” he says simply. “And more excited than I’ve ever been in my life.”

Zayn reaches out slowly, brushing his fingers gently against Harry’s palm before grabbing his hand and yanking him forward, letting Harry press him further into the wall as their lips finally meet. Five years of heartbreak are poured into the kiss, Zayn’s arms pulling Harry in closer, bracketed in by his large palms pressed against the wall.

“Don’t ever leave again,” Zayn demands when they pull apart to catch their breath, Harry’s lips pink from Zayn’s scruff.

Harry laughs against his skin, mouthing gently just below his ear. Zayn shivers, that spot always sensitive, as Harry whispers, “I’m not going anywhere, I’m never leaving you.”

He lets Harry lead him out of the room and down the hall, mouths attached as they awkwardly shuffle through the doorway to the bedroom. Zayn closes his eyes tight when he starts cataloguing all of the differences from when they lived here before, the room rearranged and the lack of decor startling.

“Wanted you to decorate it,” Harry breathes out, hands cupping Zayn’s arse and lifting him slightly, their pricks rubbing together through the fabric of their trousers. “Stared at these bare walls all the time and imagined all of the colours you’d bring to them.”

“I bring colour into your world?” Zayn teases, hand reaching between them to palm Harry’s cock, bulge thick against his palm.

“You’re _everything_ , Zayn,” Harry moans, pushing him down onto the bed and flicking the button open on his trousers, pulling down the zip and tugging them off. Zayn sits up and shrugs off his jacket, unbuttoning his shirt from the bottom and pushing both off the side of the bed, not caring if they end up in a pile.

Harry steps back and strips quickly, leaving his pants on at the last second and Zayn tries to pretend his mouth isn’t watering to see him but he doesn’t think he’s very convincing from the way Harry’s eyes darken.

“Yeah?” he asks, thumbs hooking under the waistband.

“Don’t tease,” Zayn says, staring as Harry pulls his pants down enough for his cock to spring out, head slick against his hip as he lets them fall to the floor.

Zayn scoots until he’s as close to the edge of the bed as he can be, hands gripping Harry’s pale bum and pulling him closer, parting his lips and taking him into his mouth.

“ _Fuck,_ ” Harry breathes, keeping his hips still as Zayn takes him as far as he can, pulling back and fisting his length to spread his spit, mouth drooling at the familiar taste.

He doesn’t respond, doesn’t even let Harry fall from his mouth, as he takes him back down again and again, trying to relax his gag reflex and take him into his throat like he used to be able to. Harry encourages him on, letting Zayn take his time, but he can’t go down as far as he could before and he finally pulls back, eyes watering a bit and face sloppy from his spit.

“If you could see yourself,” Harry says, hand cupping his jaw and wiping his thumb below his bottom lip. “So beautiful, the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen.”

“ _Yours_ ,” Zayn whispers, voice rough already.

Harry nods. “Mine,” he confirms, kneeling on the bed and pulling Zayn into his arms, his muscles flexing as he pulls their bodies together. “Want these off,” Harry says against his lips, fingers dipping under the elastic of his pants.

Zayn nods and pushes at them with the heel of his hand, Harry’s fingers helping as they slip them off, first one foot and then the other. He pushes Harry back, pretending for a moment that he’s stronger as he climbs over him, straddling his thighs.

“You’re pretty on your back,” he teases, mouthing at Harry’s nipple before shifting back and pinching it, mouth moving to the other one. He switches back and forth until they’re both dark and swollen from the attention, his chest showing signs of beard burn from Zayn’s slight scruff.

Harry’s moans fall silent when Zayn pulls back, looking up at him as he kisses his way down his chest. “This is going to be over very quickly,” he warns, a hand coming up to fist through Zayn’s hair, the long strands _not_ in his hand curling around his jaw as he licks along the trail of hair low on his belly.

“Pity,” he says, “I _had_ wanted you to fuck me.”

He moves down further, wanting to take Harry back into his mouth, but the hand in his hair slips away and he’s grabbed under his arms and pulled back up the bed, legs falling to the sides around Harry's waist.

He laughs as Harry drags him down, mouths sliding together as Harry’s hand slips down his back, palming Zayn’s bum before slipping his fingers between his cheeks, tracing over his hole.

Zayn whimpers and pulls back, hands flat against the mattress as he pushes his hips down and thrusts against Harry, their cocks rubbing together. Harry presses the tip of a finger in dry and Zayn shudders around his orgasm, collapsing against Harry’s chest as he goes boneless.

He licks and bites along Harry’s neck as he feels his hand slip through the mess between their stomachs before reaching down further and wrapping around his cock. Zayn can feel every time Harry’s palm rubs over his head, can hear the change in his breathing as he gets close.

“Promise to fuck me later?” he mutters, smiling against skin as Harry shoots off with a groan, clean hand coming up to bring their lips together again.

“I think I forgot how good we are together,” Harry sighs when they pull away, Zayn tucking his head back down on Harry’s shoulder and slipping to his side a bit, avoiding the mess on Harry’s belly. He stretches before settling down again, fingers tracing the familiar moth tattoo on his chest.

“There’s so many more,” he pouts, unfamiliar lines crossing his skin.

“You too,” Harry says, hand slipping over the new ones on his own back. “Time for a cigarette?” he asks.

“Not in the house,” Zayn mumbles, a pleased smirk on his face as he looks up at Harry’s answering grin. “B’sides, don’t wanna move.”

They cuddle in silence for a moment, hearts slowing to normal. Zayn stirs, half-asleep, when he remembers their earlier conversation.

“What was in the letter?”

Harry laughs and shifts under him, his chest rumbling as he moves. “I mean,” he starts, voice low in the quiet of the room, “most of it’s on the album.”

“What _isn’t_?”

“That I love you. That I’ve always loved you. I wrote that I would sell my house in LA, I would give up everything- honest, I would- if you’d call.” Zayn bites his lip, guilt flowing over him in waves as Harry continues. “I waited for your call for so long, and I would have waited for the rest of my life probably.”

“I wanted to call,” Zayn admits. “I was just so stubborn. I didn’t know how to tell you how much I loved you. I wish you would realise how awful I’ve been.”

Harry laughs again, pressing a kiss to the top of Zayn’s head. “Not awful,” he says, “you’re mine and I’m yours.”

Zayn nods against his chest, mind quiet as he drifts off to sleep.

~*~

 

**Epilogue**

Harry’s multitasking like a _pro_ , putting together his boys’ lunch while listening to Louis on speakerphone, his voice tinny over the line as he _begs_ Harry to take his kids for a playdate.

“Please, Hazza, I’m desperate.”

Harry rolls his eyes for Zak and Taj, smiling when his boys giggle. They’re patiently waiting for their apples and peanut butter and he lets Zak help him take the food to the table, carrying his phone in his free hand as he sets the second plate in front of three year-old Taj.

“I don’t know, Lou, you seem like you’re managing just fine,” he says, watching the boys dip their apples carefully.

“Styles, I’m seriously losing my mind here.”

He sighs into the phone, heading back to the worktop for his own apple, setting his mobile down as he slices it carefully. “It’s _Malik_ , Lou. It’s been Malik for almost eight years now. We didn’t keep our own names like you heathens.”

Louis either doesn’t notice or ignores the joke and Harry pouts at his mobile, chucking the core into the bin and cutting his slices thinner.

“Well, you’re acting like a Styles right now. Zayn’d help me. I’ll ask him, where is he?”

Harry eyes the last apple, whole where he left it. “He’s in his studio, I’m not bothering him for this. It’s your turn to host the playdate, you _know_ that. We did last month.”

He hears Louis _tut_ over the phone dismissively. “Last month, Liam was on tour and I had to handle Lottie’s monsters. Now Liam’s _home_ and I have missed the way those lips feel on my c-”

“ _Wahey_ , Uncle Louis forgot he’s on speaker,” Harry almost shouts as he fumbles the phone to his ear, thumbing the speaker off. “Seriously, Lou, the boys are right in front of me.”

“They have them, they’ll learn about it soon enough. Trust me, Zak’s almost seven, Olly was around that age when he started asking all kinds of questions.”

“How did you handle it?”

Louis laughs and Harry smiles at the familiar sound. “Told him to ask Liam. Still can’t believe that man blushes after twenty years of being with me.”

Harry takes his own plate to the table, a wet cloth in hand to wipe down sticky fingers when the boys finish.

“Which brings me back to my point: my husband’s lips. Have you _seen_ them? LIke, actually taken a good look at them? They’re so pink and full and they really do look rather lovely when takes me in.”

“Okay,” Harry cuts him off. “I don’t really need to hear this either,” he says, cradling the phone between his ear and shoulder as he wipes Taj’s hands first, accepting a kiss from him before he runs off to play in the rec room.

Zak shifts in his chair next to him so he’s pressed along his side, slowly chewing his apples and resting his head against Harry’s chest. Harry wraps an arm around him and puts the phone back on loud speaker for Zak.

“Say ‘hello’ to Uncle Louis,” he instructs.

“ _Salaam_ , Taaya Lou,” he parrots, his voice soft like his _baba_ ’s.

“ _Salaam_ Zak,” Louis repeats easily. “Tell your dad that you want Darcy and Oliver to come visit you guys.”

“Not cool, trying to use my children,” Harry sing-songs, smiling when Zak tilts his head back to look at him.

“I’m done,” he says decisively, and Harry sighs when he sees his plate still half-full.

“Are you sure you don’t have room for any more?” he asks, gently. Zak shakes his head and holds out his hands for them to be wiped, heading off to find his brother while Harry finishes his snack.

“He still isn’t eating?” Louis asks, concern clear. Harry thumbs off the speaker again and holds the phone back to his ear.

“No, and I’m running out of ideas. Niall said Chloe went through a phase like this and I need to wait it out but I just-”

“I know,” Louis says, his smile clear down the line. “You’ve got a tendency of being overly-motherly. You can’t help it, it’s in your nature to fret.”

Harry smiles back. “You best be nice or else I’ll say no. I’m still mad you stole the name ‘Darcy’ from me.”

“You have two boys, you don’t need it anyway.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he says, waving his hand even though Louis can’t see. “Listen, drop them off Friday around six and we’ll keep them the weekend. _As long as_ ,” he adds when Louis whoops in his ear, “you don’t ever talk to me about Liam’s lips again.”

“Deal, Hazza, you’ve got no idea how much I love you right now. Tell Zayn hello and thank you from us, and Liam’ll drop them off Friday.”

“Remember this, love, when you’re repaying the favour,” Harry warns before they both say goodbye.

He clears the dishes when he’s done, washing them in the sink and setting them to dry. He’s startled when cold hands slip around his waist, Zayn pressing against his back and rising on his toes enough to hook his chin over Harry’s shoulder.

“Zak eat all his apple?” he asks, sighing when Harry shakes his head. “Okay. We’ll try to double up his veg tonight, maybe he won’t notice.”

“He’s your son,” Harry laughs as he turns around in Zayn’s arms, their chests together. “He’ll notice. Maybe we’ll give him some extra chicken, I was thinking of kebabs for tea.”

“Sounds good,” Zayn says, leaning in for a kiss.

They stay still for a moment, enjoying the brief peace as both boys play nicely in the next room.

“Dance with me,” Harry says, pushing off from the worktop until they’re stood in the middle of the kitchen.

“You’re a sap,” Zayn laughs. He rolls his eyes but doesn’t protest, letting Harry rock them side-to-side, humming an old song he can’t remember the words to.

“We’re getting the Tomlinson-Paynes for Friday and Saturday,” he says when he loses track of the melody, still shuffling slowly.

“Mmm, thought it was their turn,” Zayn teases, leaning back and looking at him.

Harry just shrugs, smiling at him.

They fall quiet again until a crash in the next room breaks them apart, Taj’s crying clear through the walls. Harry feels his heart stop- will never get used to the sound of his children upset- and he rushes into the room.

Taj isn’t hurt, seems to just be startled from the fallen block tower he was building. “Daddy,” he cries, arms up when he sees Harry. Harry swoops him up quickly, shushing him.

Zayn’s right behind him, leaning in to kiss his flushed cheek where his face is resting on Harry’s shoulder.

“Don’t coddle them so much, Haz,” he mutters, a hand running through the thick black curls on his son’s head.

“He’s my baby, don’t tell me what to do,” Harry pouts, rubbing a hand along Taj’s back until he quiets.

Zak’s watching them from in front of his own block structure, and Harry sees him knock his to the floor and laugh. “See, Taj?” Zak says, knocking a smaller tower down as well. “They make a funny noise when they fall.”

Taj twists in Harry’s arms until he can see his brother, watching as Zak builds a single column high before swiping his hand through it. Taj giggles, tears forgotten as he struggles to be put back down on the floor.

Harry obliges, kneeling next to them as Taj tries to help Zak, shrieky giggles when they knock it down together.

“This isn’t much better,” Zayn mumbles, watching the boys laughing. Harry shushes him and grins. “Come with me,” he says after a moment, “wanna show you what I was working on.”

Harry nods and stands, following him across the house to Zayn’s studio, the upstair’s room having remained the nursery as the boys grew with the large room.

“Close your eyes,” Zayn instructs when they get to the door.

He does so obediently, though he can’t resist giving him some cheek when he says, “there’s already been two proposals in this house- _three_ if you count my groveling after Lottie’s wedding.”

Zayn doesn’t answer, just jerks Harry into the room by his hand. He keeps his eyes closed tight as he stumbles forward, trusting Zayn to not lead him into the walls. Finally, he thinks he’s stood in the middle of the room when Zayn lets go of his hand. “Keep them closed,” Zayn says as he walks away.

He hears an easel being pushed around and thinks he catches the sound of canvas being shuffled. Finally, the room grows silent, the only sounds are the faint laughter drifting through the house to them.

“You can look,” Zayn says, and Harry blinks his eyes open.

Zayn’s stood next to one of his smaller easels, a charcoal drawing clipped up. Harry takes a moment to look at it, the drawing mostly dark until the way he’s viewing it shifts and he can clearly see the lines are circular, and the absence of colour is specifically shaped.

“Zayn?” he breathes, stepping forward and tearing his eyes away to look at his husband.

“I went with Lexi yesterday,” Zayn says, smiling wide. “She’s ten weeks along.”

Harry can’t even fight the tears when he hears Zayn, going to him and wrapping him up in his arms. “We’re going to have another baby,” he laughs, spinning Zayn around and coming back to face the ultrasound Zayn drew him.

“She said you were taking her next week but I wanted to surprise you. I know we took it hard when the IVF didn’t take last time, but she’s doing so well now. She’s coming round for dinner tonight, I knew you’d want to see her as soon as you found out.”

Harry lets himself cry for another minute, his face buried in Zayn’s neck. “I love you,” he says when he pulls back, large hands reaching up to frame Zayn’s face and pull him in for a kiss.

Zayn kisses him back and pulls away with a smile. “Now get out of here,” he laughs, swatting Harry’s bum gently. “You’ve got three hungry boys and a surrogate eating for two. I’m famished and those kebabs aren’t going to make themselves.”

Harry beams and walks away, turning back in the doorframe to watch Zayn kneel on the floor and drag over his largest sketchbook.

“What’s that going to be?” he asks, sniffling a bit.

Zayn looks over his shoulder at him, smiling sincerely. “I’m drawing the way you smile when you think about our children.”

Harry rolls his eyes fondly, ignoring the fresh wave of tears that threaten to spill over. He leaves Zayn to his charcoals, checking on the boys on his way back to the kitchen.

“Still knocking down buildings?” he asks as he watches them stack the blocks in pyramids.

“We’re playing Injee Jones,” Taj says excitedly, clapping his hands after Zak lets him put the top block down.

“You’re playing Indiana Jones?” Harry asks, coming closer. “Can I play?”

“No, dads don’t play Indiana Jones,” Zak laughs.

Harry’s taken aback for a moment but shrugs. He’ll let them shun him a bit if they continue to get along. “Okay,” he says, backing from the room. “Dad’s leaving. Let me know when you’re done playing Indiana Jones, we’re going to have dinner with Lexi tonight.”

Taj cheers, always excited for company. He’s still a bit too young to understand who Lexi is to them, but Harry’s been explaining it to Zak slowly and he watches Zak smile softly, starting the base for another pyramid.

“I like Lexi,” Zak says, distractedly. “She carried me in her belly for you and _abba_.”

One day, Harry’s going to get his weepy tendencies under control, but not today. He just murmurs ‘ _that’s right’_ and rushes to the kitchen, wiping his eyes on his sleeve before setting his ingredients out for dinner.

He’s got three hungry boys and a woman eating for two to feed.

**Author's Note:**

> I’m told that it isn’t common to dip apples in peanut butter in other parts of the world but I suggest everyone goes and does just that. Taj liked it, so will you!
> 
> Come say [hi](http://softersin.tumblr.com/)


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